Picking up the Pieces
by brielle23
Summary: As Harry tries to cope w/ a post-war world, his sanity crumbles & he is forced into an institution. Will his state continue to worsen or will help come from an unlikely place? DH compliant minus epilogue "M" for language, self-harm & later SLASH. HP/DM
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any part of his world. He is the possession of J.K. Rowling, who has done a terrific job nurturing him and bringing his universe to fruition (minus that crazy little lapse in judgment called an epilogue.)

**Warning: **This story contains harsh language, mild images of self-harm, and will eventually (probably within the next 2 or 3 chapters) contain explicit Slash scenes. You are warned. If you are bothered by any of these things, don't read my stuff.

**And P.S-** This is my first venture into the world of fan-fic! I would love to hear all of your opinions--but don't be too mean, if possible :) This may suck, I really hope it doesn't though!

**And P.S.S**- I am sure you are all smart enough to realize that the words in _italics _are Harry's thoughts, but I figured I would tell you to be sure. And he's supposed to be kind of crazy, so the thoughts may be a little manic sounding.

Okay, I'm done. Enjoy! Hopefully.

_

* * *

_

_I woke to the dull humming of old florescent lights. _

_Uh oh, what did I do this time? _

_I tried lifting my arms only to find that they were strapped to the bed, confirming my suspicions. But what did I do to end up in solitary this time? I couldn't remember._

_Think, dammit, think. What did I remember? I recalled sitting in the common room. I was...having a bit to eat and writing a letter to Ron. _

_Hmm...what else…Healer Davis came in to make an announcement. He said a new person would be joining our "circle." _

_I had laughed as he said that. Why did they insist on using such non-offensive, "PC" terms? Why didn't the call us what we really were? A bunch of crazies; a motley crew of teenagers that had for one reason or another, gone completely nutters. Pick an affliction, someone here has it and a slew of other problems._

_PTSD sufferers, we've got 'em. Those oh-so-fun bi-polar loonies, got those too. Want a personality disorder? Throw a stone and you'll hit someone with one. Then of course we have your run of the mill schizos, kleptos, pyros, drunks, druggies, cutters, pukers, sociopaths--the list goes on. _

_Yet our group is referred to as a circle. A round unobtrusive thing with no harsh corners or sharp edges. Perfectly symmetrical and whole. Yeah, that sounds just like us._

_But anyways, where was I, right, a new person was joining our "circle." Davis gave us the usual spiel about welcoming new friends and making them feel at home, blah, blah, blah. Then he left to get said "friend." _

_And then...hmm...that's it. That's all I've got. Why can't I remember anything else? Shit! Shit, shit, shit! That can't be good._

XXXXXXXXX

The sound of the first lock clicking open echoed throughout the empty shell of a room. It was followed by a patient, quiet rattling that grew louder and louder until it turned into a desperate pounding that shook the lights above me. The second lock always stuck.

And while the noise exacerbated the painful throbbing in my head, I was glad. Someone was coming to see me. Someone that could hopefully tell me why the hell I was here.

The lock continued to jiggle, and after a few irritated sighs from the other side of the door, it finally clicked and the door opened a small crack.

"Mr. Potter." It was Healer Davis. "May I come in?" I laughed at the pointless formality.

"Sure," I croaked. My throat was dry and felt like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't swallow to relieve the pain. My tongue was thick and the cottony sensation in my mouth left me barely able to talk, let alone do anything else. Surely a side-effect of whatever drug they had sedated me with.

"Thank you," Davis replied.

He pushed open the grey metal door and stepped into the room. I sighed. It was almost a crime for a man that beautiful to be surrounded by such dankness and squalor. Davis was a Grecian god; tall, long, sinewy muscles, blonde tousled hair and a perfect tan.

If the circumstances of our acquaintance had been anything other than doctor/severely fucked-up patient, I might have considered asking him out. But alas, my hands were tied.

"How are you feeling, Harry," he asked as he sat down at the foot of my bed.

"Well," I paused a moment to choose the best word to summarize my current state. "Inquisitive, I guess. For instance, I am wondering why I am in here."

"You don't remember?"

"No," I replied. "Not a thing."

The doctor eyed me suspiciously, trying to see if I was being truthful, for sure. After ogling me a moment, he seemed satisfied in what he saw, or didn't see, for that matter, and continued.

"Harry, you'll be fine if I undo the straps, right?"

I nodded.

He quickly unfastened each one and then held his hand out to help me sit up. I reached to grab it but stopped short. My eyes widened as I saw the thick white bandages that enveloped both of my forearms, elbow to wrist.

"Well, I'm guessing these have something to do with why I'm here," I said holding my arms in front of me.

"Yes, they do." He smiled. "Tell me Harry, what's the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

"Well..." I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. "I remember you saying we were getting a new member. Then you left to get them....and that's it."

Davis wrinkled his brow in thought. I wished he wouldn't do that. The lines it created added years to his flawless face.

"So you don't remember me introducing our new member?"

"Nope." I popped my "p" for emphasis.

"Well Harry, I brought our new member into the common room. You were sitting at the table eating, nothing unusual. But when I began making introductions you took one look at him and started screaming. Then you snapped your spoon in half and started stabbing and cutting your arms with it."

I could feel the throbbing in my head start to intensify. The pain was radiating from the center of my brain outwards, crushing my ocular nerves and threatening to pop my eyes out of their sockets with each pulsation. I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the pain, and to hopefully keep my eyes in place.

"But anyways, we eventually restrained you. You didn't go down without a fight though, and Wadsworth has quite the shiner to show for it."

"No," I breathed. This couldn't be happening. What the hell was going on? After the war, I had similar blackouts at least once a week. But it had been over a month since my last one. I thought I was getting better. I thought I was in control.

"And why do you think this happened?" I asked.

"Well, I had been hoping you could shed some light on that, but I guess not. I do have a theory though. I think you may know our new guest."

"Really, did you ask him if he knew me?"

"Well, I would have, but he hasn't spoken a single word since he got here. But I do know that he went to Hogwarts. And he is right about your age."

My mind was racing, my palms sweating. This wasn't supposed to happen! My previous life and this "life" (if you could call it that) were never supposed to cross paths. No one but my closest friends knew I was here, and I needed it to stay that way.

No one could know that the great Harry Potter had been reduced to nothing more than a crazy locked up alongside people that drool on themselves and eat their own hair. No one could know what had become of me. No one.

"Well," I breathed. "What is his name? Maybe if I know who he is I could better explain my reaction."

"Harry are you sure you want to know? The other healers and I have been talking. Maybe we could move him to another facility. We don't want anything to jeopardize your treatment. We only want what's best for you, and if his presence is going to hinder your progress in anyway, I think we can make other arrangements."

Who would have thought that some day one of the perks of being the wizard that destroyed Voldemort would be that I had clout in a loony bin?

"Davis, that's not necessary. I'm going to have to go back out in the real world someday and I am bound to run into people from my past. I can't hide forever."

"I know Harry, but.."

"But nothing," I interrupted. " I don't want special treatment. Don't send him away for my sake. I will get through this. Now tell me, what is his name?"

"His name," Davis sighed. "Is Draco Malfoy."

* * *

**A/N:** I hope that was enough to keep you interested! Crazy Harry dolls for those that review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** J.K. owns them, not me. If I owned them, the series would have included lots of sweet, sweet man-loving.

**Warning: **Again, if you cannot handle depictions of people that are mentally unstable or if you do not like reading about hot, fictional characters of the same sex getting it on, go elsewhere :)

**P.S.-** I appreciate the response I got last time and am totally stoked that I had people sign up for updates. From here on out I plan on updating once or twice a week, depending on how busy I am at work.

Okay, here it is. Let me know what you think.

* * *

After fighting the urge to flip the bed and tear the room to shreds, I eventually calmed myself down and let my brain process what Davis had told me. Draco Malfoy was going to be joining our "circle." Draco Malfoy, the person I used to consider the very bane of my existence, would now have to take group showers, use safety scissors and talk about his feelings right along side me. It was bitter-sweet really.

On one hand, I loathed the fact that I would be forced to be in such close proximity to someone that I despised. And on top of that, I hated that he would get the satisfaction of seeing me like this. Like he really needed anymore ammo for his arsenal.

But on the other hand, a small part of me breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't the only that couldn't handle life on my own. Someone else was just as fucked-up as me. And that someone was the seemingly infallible Draco Malfoy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, unwillingly inhaling the scent of sweat and fetid meat. The noxious but familiar smell served as an indicator that dinner would be ready soon. And despite the putrid odor, my stomach rumbled hungrily, responding in the way Pavlov's dogs responded to tinkling bells. But dinner would have to wait.

I inhaled again, through my mouth this time, and then slowly pushed the air back out of my lungs. Everything was going to be fine. I had plenty of time to mentally prepare myself for this. That, and Davis gave me enough drugs to quash any manic thoughts or ideas I might have or might even think about having.

This elaborate song and dance was not typically necessary for a simple session of group therapy, but today was different. Today was Draco's first session of group and it would be my first time seeing him since my initial freakout.

I told myself and the doctors that there was nothing to worry about now that I was actually aware of Draco's presence. I mean, didn't they know you shouldn't surprise a crazy person? Now that I had the time to mentally prepare for this, and the drugs as a safety net, I was sure that I would be able to behave myself. But I knew everyone was on standby, just in case.

I stood up from my bed and did the best I could to straighten my rumpled clothes and hair. When I realized it was doing little good, I gave up, slipped on my blue hospital-issued slippers and made my way out the door.

The hall was empty. Everyone was probably already there, just itching to spill their guts. I took my time. I was never in a hurry to get to group and especially not today.

But unfortunately, in what felt like record time, I was outside of room 213, willing myself to cross it's threshold.

"Harry, come on in!" a boy named Emerson called. He was a nice enough kid, about two or three years younger than me. His dark, unkempt hair and round boyish face reminded me a little of Neville Longbottom. The main difference being that when Emerson set fire to or destroyed things, it was generally on purpose.

"You can sit next to me," he said smiling. Yes, even in the mad house, people still wanted a piece of Harry Potter.

I lifted my eyes and let them scan the room. There was nothing out of the ordinary; the same sterile white walls, same circle of desks. The only difference was the blonde sitting next to Healer Wadsworth. I quickly averted my eyes.

"Come on Harry!" I finally acknowledged Emerson with a smile and made my way over to him.

The empty desk to his left was the only one in the whole room with a green seat. It was my favorite desk and I knew that I would need it today. And I knew that it would be empty, because even if they didn't know the reason why, everyone knew that it was my favorite desk, and they always left it open for me--another perk of being the great Harry Potter.

I quietly took my seat and non-chalantly began searching under the desk with my hand. After feeling around a moment, I found what I was looking for.

On the underside of the desk there was a spot where two metal bars intersected and were welded together. The welding, however, was done very crudely and it left a serrated protuberance sticking out underneath the desk. I gently ran my finger over it; it was still sharp.

"Okay, now that everyone is here," Wadsworth started. "I would like to begin by formally introducing our new group member. Everyone," he said gesturing to the blonde boy to his right. "This is Draco Malfoy."

"Hi Draco," the sheep bleated in unison.

I lifted my head and allowed myself to get a full look at the former Slytherin.

He physically looked pretty much the same as he always had. The same thin, but slightly muscled build, the same white-blonde hair, the same silver-grey eyes. But outside of his physical attributes, he looked nothing like the Draco I remembered from school. The Draco I remembered had a contemptuous air about him. Every fiber of his being reeked of pride and superiority. From the way he walked to the way he treated others, he screamed arrogance and aplomb.

But this Draco was different. He was hunched over in his desk, his eyes glued to the floor like he wanted nothing more than to peel up the linoleum and hide underneath it. Had I not known the previous Draco I might have almost felt sorry for this one.

"Draco, could you tell us a little about yourself?" Wadsworth asked. But the blonde just sat there, unmoving, nothing about him even acknowledging that someone had spoken to him.

"Draco?" the doctor tried again. Still nothing.

"Well guys, since he's not up to sharing today, why don't we go around the room and introduce ourselves to him. Starting with you, Jacob."

"Well, I'm Jacob McDugan," the Irish boy began. I quickly tuned out my surroundings and turned my attention back to Draco. I wondered what could have possibly happened to make him like this. It was like something had masticated and swallowed him down, digesting everything about him that was Malfoy, and then regurgitated this dead, lifeless lump.

Was he sent to Azkaban? Sure he and his family had been in Voldemort's inner-circle, but he really was only a child. Resisting Voldemort would have meant certain death for him, and most likely his family. What else could he have done?

Was he tortured by Death Eaters? They couldn't have been happy with the role Draco's mother played in ending the war. Maybe Death Eater's found the Malfoy's and exacted their revenge.

Who knew? The lack of news made it impossible for me to know what was going on outside of the hospital. We weren't allowed to read the Prophet, we weren't allowed to watch news stations. My only sources of news were the visitors I was allowed every other Saturday, but they never gave up much information either. It was like everyone was trying to protect us from the outside world.

But I, of all people, should be privied to at least some knowledge of the goings-on in the wizarding world. **I am Harry fucking Potter. I saved their asses and I don't even get to see the repercussions of it or bask in the fruits of my labor! Bullshit I tell you!**

"Harry," Wadsworth snapped me out of my internal tirade. "Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

"Does he really have to?" Emerson cooed. "I think everyone knows who Harry Potter is."

I cringed and turned my head to look at Draco. Surely the mention of my name snapped him out his daze. The Slytherin in him couldn't ignore that his favorite figurative punching bag was only ten feet away from him. But when my eyes settled on him, he sat there as still as he was before, completely unaffected by the mention of my name.

"Well, my name is Harry Potter," I began. I looked at Draco again, still no response. "I'm nineteen and I grew up in Little Whinging, but the first place I really considered home was Hogwarts." Surely he'd at least look up at that……Nope, guess not.

"Great, thank you Harry." Wadsworth smiled. "Now that we are all acquainted, I'd like to start today's session talking about a subject we have touched on many times before. I know that almost everyone here has been affected by it in one way or another, including Draco, so I thought it would be a good place to start. I am, of course, talking about the war."

Oh no.

"Who wants to start by sharing how the war affected them?" he asked.

_I could feel myself tumbling towards the ground. The strong gravitational pull had me cutting through the air like a warm knife through butter. There was no resistance, nothing to stop me. __**Crash! **__I hit the ground like a ton of bricks. The noise reverberated off the stone walls around me. I carefully tested each part of my body, bending and flexing. Despite the hard fall, I was somehow left unscathed. I stood up and brushed the dirt from eyes. Streaks of green and red shot by me from all directions. I didn't know where I was or where I was going, but I ran. I ran and ran through the large corridor, bodies tripping me up every step I took. Bodies of friends, bodies of enemies, bodies of people whose alliance was unknown--bloodied, beaten, broken. They reached for me. They clawed at my legs, desperately trying to pull me down with them. But I wouldn't go! Not on their terms! I pulled a dagger from my pocket and tested the tip. It was still sharp. I pressed my finger down on the blade until I felt a drop of warm, crimson victory escape the soft pad of flesh. They'll never have me!_

_My surroundings started to swirl around me. The stone surfaces gave way to smooth white floors and walls. The colorful flashes of light disappeared and were replaced by several stationary, blindingly white lights that hung from the ceiling. I was no longer running. I was sitting at a desk. But despite the change in scenery, the bodies were still there, trying to get me. They dug their fingers into floor, skin ripping from muscle as friction tried to prevent them from dragging themselves closer to me. But it didn't stop them. They kept coming for me, leaving sanguinary trails in their wake. _

_But they will never succeed! I am the one in control! I carefully pushed the bandage on my right forearm up a few centimeters, so a small part of my inner wrist was exposed. Then, lightly at first, I began dragging my wrist across the sharp protrusion under the desk, increasing the pressure with each stroke. After a moment, I could feel the sharp piece of metal start to rip through my skin. I closed my eyes and focused on the pain, on how it felt as each jagged tooth bit harshly into my flesh. The sensation it created was overwhelming. The pain was so great that it took everything in my power to resist the urge to scream and pull my arm away. But I was in control! When I was in control, they could never get me!_

_Then, almost on cue, the bodies began falling away. They disappeared left and right, along with the blood and flesh that had previously littered the floor. Within moments, they were gone. The linoleum sparkled a crisp, clean, white. A white that had never been touched by death._

I slowly opened my eyes. I was back at group therapy, grounded, safe. I had pulled myself back from the brink of disaster, avoiding death yet again.

"Alright guys. That's enough for today," Wadsworth announced. "See you tomorrow!"

I quickly put my bandage back in place to cover my bloodied wrist, and got up to leave.

"Everything okay, Harry?" Emerson asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I don't know. You just seemed out of it today."

"Oh, just a little tired," I lied.

"I hear ya. Hey, I have a quick question. I wanted to see if you were available for a game of chess tonight. I mean, if you are busy I totally understand."

"Yeah, sure, that's cool," I replied.

"Really, awesome! See ya later then Harry," he exclaimed as he skipped away.

I wondered how long I would be the shiny new toy of the loony-bin. It had been six months and my novelty hadn't worn off yet. I shook my head and retreated to my room.

* * *

**A/N: **For my fellow perverts out there, I promise Slash will be coming soon--Probably by the next two or three chapters. You have to have a little build up, ya know?

Well anyways, pretty, pretty please let me know what you think. Bloody, writhing corpses to all that review! No, you don't want those? Hmm...How about my memories of naked Daniel Radcliffe in _Equus_ to view in your pensieves? Okay, naked Daniel Radcliffe it is!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Once again, I do not own Harry Potter or any part of his world. If I did, I would have probably left Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets. Sorry, I would have.

**Warning: **If you cannot handle the antics of crazy people, foul language or if you do not like Slash, you're the crazy one my friend! Go elsewhere. And _yes_, for those of you who thrive on Slash-y goodness, you can thank Izziebelle. She twisted my arm and made me put a little Slash in this chapter. (Okay, she didn't twist that hard!) So, be forewarned! Also, be forewarned, I haven't really written any Slash before, so I might be getting your hopes up for nothing. It might suck hardcore.

**P.S.-** Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter up. No matter what I wrote, I couldn't seem to be happy with it. And honestly, I'm not that happy with the finished product, but everyone has bad days, right?

Also, I wanted to take a quick second and give a "shout-out" to my three favorite people in the world right now! They took the time to review both of my chapters. They rock!

Izziebelle (The coolest best friend ever! Eye sex with Daniel Radcliffe wouldn't have been the same without you!)

iluvclarkkentxx (She's awesome! After you read this chapter, go check out her stories right away, if you haven't already that is!)

TearsOfTheForgotten (Thanks for reading! Your kind words totally brightened my day!)

**P.S.S-** One last thing. Make sure you check out the author's note at the bottom of this chapter. I have a bribe for you all that was inspired by iluvclarkkentxx. Alright, on to the chapter.

* * *

"Hey Harry!" Emerson called as he skipped into the common room.

"Hey" I sighed. But I didn't turn to face him, my gaze still fixed out the large picture window I sat in front of.

The window seat was my favorite place to go whenever I felt like getting away. There I could stare at the streets below and people watch for hours, the facade on the front of the building allowing me to do so in private. I would watch all the witches and wizards below, busying themselves with everyday mundane tasks; shopping, sending owls, walking their dogs. Things I so desperately wished I could do. Things that I had once taken for granted.

Sometimes I would pick one person and concoct an entire story about them. Their name, what they did for a living, what chain of events brought them to that particular street at that particular time. As crazy as it was, it helped me feel like a part of the outside world again.

"Can I join you?" Emerson asked. I reluctantly turned to look at him, abandoning my amusement for the time being.

"Sure." I did the best I could to look welcoming and patted the cushion beside me. A cloud of dust escaped the ratty bolster and sparkled in the sunlight like a thousand tiny diamonds.

"You ready for group?" he asked cheerily.

"I guess--about as ready as I always am."

"Yea, same here." He too turned his attention on the street below us, his fingers nervously picking at the threadbare cushion. Despite having been there for six months, he still wasn't completely comfortable around me. As laughable as it was, everyone said he was still star-struck.

"Boys, group in five," a voice called, cutting through the awkward silence. I looked up to see Wadsworth standing in the hallway. "Best not be late again."

"Be right there sir." Emerson hopped up and headed towards the hall. "You coming Harry?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yea, I'll be there in a minute."

"Alright, it's your ass if you're late," he chided as he disappeared around the corner.

I slowly unfolded my body from the onerous fetal position I was holding. I had been in the window seat, sedentary, for hours, my muscles stiffening to the point of rigor mortis. I stood up and stretched each part of my body, my arms, my legs, my back, until it finally felt like my muscles had returned to their original size and state. I looked up at the clock; 2:58. With two minutes to spare, I dashed down the hall to room 213.

I kept my eyes down as I entered the dreaded room, desperate to not make eye contact with Draco, or anyone else for that matter. I quietly made my way over to my usual desk, but stopped short. My desk was already occupied, and it was occupied by Draco Malfoy.

The surprise and abhorrence must have read clearly on my face because Wadsworth was by my side in seconds.

"Harry, is everything okay?" the doctor asked.

"He's in my seat," I whispered, inclining my head towards the blonde wizard.

"It's okay, Harry. There are plenty of other seats."

"But that's my desk." _Don't these people understand? I am Harry Potter for God's sake! Aren't I at least entitled to sit in whatever goddamn seat I want?_

"Harry, we don't have assigned seats here, remember? And Draco got here first, so he's allowed to sit there. Come on, come sit next to me."

The doctor began walking back towards his desk, grabbing my hand to make me follow—but I couldn't move. I stood there frozen, anger augmenting itself inside me. My face flushed a deep crimson and my body began to shake. I could feel the familiar pressure starting to swell inside me. It was coming in undulating waves, building in strength with each lap to the surface.

If I didn't release some of the pressure soon I knew I would explode. I could picture Healer Wadsworth scraping little pieces of Harry off the walls, group member picking bits of me out of their hair. I had to do something.

I pulled my hand out of Wadsworth's grip and made a B-line to the door. I turned with the intent of giving the Slytherin prat one last menacing look before storming out, but I was taken aback. The quiet, unassuming Draco I knew from therapy was no longer. He was replaced by the Draco I remembered from school--smug and haughty, his perfect mouth twisted into a menacious sneer. I stalked out without another look back.

I ran through the maze of corridors, my slippers clopping on the tile floor with each stride. After that dislplay, I knew someone would be sent to check on me soon, so I had to hurry. I got to my room, slammed the door behind and threw myself to the side of my bed. After digging between the mattress and the box-spring for what seemed like an eternity, I felt my fingers wrap around the cold piece of steel I was looking for.

I grabbed the razor, hiked up my sleeve and began cutting, hesitantly at first, each cut slow and deliberate. But it wasn't working, the pressure continued pulsing inside me, begging to be set free. Pushing through my inhibitions, I gripped the razor tightly in my hand and frantically began cutting and stabbing my arms. This method started working almost instantly. Each time the razor tore open my skin I could feel pressure release. I closed my eyes and pictured the plumes of toxic gas I was sure were pouring out of each laceration--the pressure as it wept from the confines of my body.

I sliced and hacked and reveled in the sensation until I felt the last little bit of pressure seep out of my maimed body. Then, just as quickly as the episode came on, it was over.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The pressure was gone, but now I had more pressing issues. Someone would surely be coming after me soon, and I had to hide the evidence. I quickly tucked the razor back under the mattress and started doing the best I could to clean myself up--but there were just so many cuts. Most were smaller and somewhat superficial in nature, but a few were deep and didn't seem to want to stop bleeding.

I ran to my dresser and dug through the drawers until I found the old, pilling towel I was looking for. In one swift motion, I ripped it half and wrapped one piece of the cloth tightly around my arm. After applying pressure for a minute or so I pulled the towel away. It did seem to help some, but looking down I realized I was still a complete mess.

Blood streaked down my arm like dozens of dried up little rivers. On my forearm, my wrist, my hand, caked under my fingernails--I was covered. Everywhere I looked was sullied with remnants of the deep, scarlet secretion.

Running out of time, I spit on the unused half of the towel and began wiping away the crusted bits of blood.

"Need some help with that?" Davis asked from the doorway. _Shit, when did he get there?_

I pointlessly yanked down my sleeve and hid the towels under my leg.

"Um, nah, I'm fine."

"You're not fine Harry," he said as stepped into the room and latched the door behind him. "We need to talk. But first things first--_Accio, razor_." He held his hand out, the blade landing softly in his palm before he tucked it safely into his coat pocket.

"Now let me take a look at your arm," he said. He sat down on the bed next to me, an expectant look on his face.

I opened my mouth in protest, but before I could get any words out, he grabbed my arm and gingerly pushed my sleeve up to my elbow.

"Oh Harry, you poor thing. This is awful." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. "_Abstergo Sanguis_," he muttered as he gave his wand a solid flick.

Instantly the blood started to fade away. And in literally the blink of an eye, it completely dissipated and all of the cuts healed, each one reduced to a neat coagulated line.

And even though I was thankful to get cleaned up, tears started to sting at the corners of my eyes. A flood of emotions ran through me. I was pissed off at myself for being an idiot and allowing myself to freak out like I did. I was ashamed that the only way I could cope with my feelings was to cut the pain away. But mostly, I was upset because everyone knew about these shortcomings. Everyone here knew that The Chosen One, the savior of the wizarding world had completely and utterly lost his mind.

"Look, I'm fine," I acquiesced, wiping away traiterous tears.

Davis put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him.

"Harry, it's going to be okay," he whispered. His warm breath danced across my neck and sent shivers down my spine. "I promise."

I leaned in closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder in defeat. Usually I wasn't one to be coddled, but something about Davis calmed me. From the circles his thumb was tracing on my palm as he held my hand, to the slow, even heaving of his chest, to the strong way he had me pinned against him, everything about him being there soothed me, made me feel better.

And then suddenly it was perfectly clear to me what I wanted--what I needed. I needed human contact. I needed physical release. I needed to be wanted. I had been denying myself these basic creature comforts, and for what? I had no reason.

From the moment Voldemort marked me as his equal, witches and wizards alike wanted a piece of me, a piece of the boy that was the wizarding world's only hope. Many counted down the days until I would be of legal age to bed. And to be honest, age restrictions were irrelevant to some.

The first sexual proposition I received was when I was the tender age of twelve. A beautiful witch that had to have been twenty years my senior all but begged for me to let her take my virginity. At that age, such an offer was easy to refuse as sex was about the furthest thing from my mind. However, as I got older and the offers came more and more frequently, the temptation became harder to resist.

Instead, when women begged to suck my cock or pleaded for me to have my way with them, I politely obliged. Witches my age, witches 10 or 20 years older than me, it didn't matter. If they were decent looking and had someplace warm and soft for me to put my dick in, I would do it. The fact that I was so wanted by these women that they were willing to degrate themselves and act like wanton whores made me feel powerful. I craved that power so much that by the time I began my sixth year, I needed mine, Ron's and Hermoine's fingers _and_ toes, to count all of my sexual conquests.

And even though my need for that feeling of power did not waver, I soon became bored with what those women had to offer me. Pouty-lipped mouths and sloppy pussies all started to look alike. They blended together--I barely knew where one ended and the next began. I needed something different, something more. That was when I finally decided to take a wizard up on his offer.

The feelings that nameless, blonde wizard gave me far surpassed anything I had ever experienced. He knew exactly what to do to make _me_ the one that was begging and pleading for more. His skill and technique seemed unparalelled.

Little did I know that it wasn't really that particular wizard's sexual prowess that had brought me to my knees, it was simply being with a man. Men offered me so much that a woman couldn't. They too begged and pleaded to suck me off. They too yearned to have my cock inside them. But unlike women, they offered _me_ a dick to worship. And worship I did--until I got here that is.

When I arrived at this facility I thought for sure it would mean the end of my sex life, but I was wrong. The people here begged for my dick just as much as the people on the outside world did. And at first I obliged here as well, allowing whoever wanted my cock to have it. But after a while, the whole thing got kind of, well, boring. Soon I was refusing more offers than I was accepting. And about three months in, I stopped accepting them all together. Instead I chose to spend my time brooding and wallowing in my misery.

But with Davis, a man that was strong and beautiful, sitting next to me, holding me, all of my wants and needs came crashing back to me, drowning me in a sea of lust and carnal instincts. I understood the taboo nature of such relations, but I didn't care, and I was pretty sure Davis wouldn't care either. No one had resisted the great Harry Potter to this point, why would they now? I decided to go for it.

Testing his boundaries, I nuzzled myself deeper into the crook of Davis' neck. When he didn't object, I relaxed and slowly inhaled. As expected, he smelled absolutely delicious. The musky scent of his cologne and the salty bouquet of his skin were so intoxicating they made me dizzy. And slowly, that drunken feeling began to spread throughout my whole body, warming my limbs and muddling my brain.

And in my new, inebriated state, I threw caution to the wind and went for what I wanted. I pulled my hand from Davis' grip and let it come to rest on his upper leg. Slowly, I rubbed my hand up and down the smooth twill material that covered his muscled thigh, my hand climbing higher with each upward stroke. The closer I got to his cock, the faster and more irregular his breathing got. And just as I anticipated, he did nothing to stop me.

When my hand finally reached his manhood, I let my fingers lightly graze the swollen bulge, my own cock twitching in response.

"Harry, we can't do this," he breathed. "I'm your doctor."

"What, you don't want me?" I asked, my face the picture of innocence.

"I, um, I mean...you're very attractive, but you're my patient."

"But if I am a consenting adult, it shouldn't matter." I grabbed his hand and placed it on my still covered, but now throbbing member. "And I want you so bad. Can't you see what you do to me?"

He groaned incoherently in response.

"Pretty please," I pleaded.

That must have been all he needed because without warning Davis dropped to his knees in front of me and began unbuckling my pants. Once those were out of the way, he yanked my boxers down in one swift motion, allowing my swollen cock to spring free of the restricting material. It didn't remain uncovered long though.

Davis quickly took my dick in his mouth, his tongue expertly flicking the tip and massaging the underside of the head. He continued to suck and nip, his mouth soon enveloping my entire length. He thrust his head faster and harder, my dick bottoming out in the back of his throat. But despite the way it choked and gagged him, he was dilligent in his work and continued to suck and thrust until I was almost at the point of climax.

My breath began to catch and my body quivered, signalling Davis of my impending orgasm. He tightened his mouth around my shaft, increasing the suction, and began bobbing his head faster and faster on my dick. Within seconds I felt the familiar tingling in the pit of my stomach and before I knew it, I had tangled my fingers in Davis' hair and slammed into his mouth until stream after stream of warm liquid coated the back of his throat.

When I was finally able to catch my breath, I pulled my boxers and pants back on and stood up. I had gotten what I wanted, gotten what I needed--and I was in control again. I opened my door and walked out, leaving a confused Davis in my room, still on his knees.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, now for the bribe. I really, really love it when people review, because I like knowing what everyone thinks of this story. I have begged and pleaded but have only gotten six reviews so far.

So, I am trying something different this time around. If I get at least five reviews for this chapter, I will disclose in the next chapter the really messed up reason that Draco is in the mental institution. If I don't get five reviews, you will all have to wait :) And trust me, he is in there for a very screwed up reason. So pretty, pretty please review! It will add an interesting twist to the story!

**At last count I needed one more itty bitty review--then I will reveal why Draco is in the crazy house!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, etc, etc.--Although I would love to. I would keep them chained in my basement so I could use them as I see fit :)

**Warning:** Same old, same old. If you can't handle foul language, crazy folks, or man sex--peace out!

**P.S.-** Sorry it took so long. I had a really busy week. But I am back on track now!

I am so happy! I got five reviews for chapter 3, so I am able to reveal why Draco is in the crazy house! Yay!

And again, I would like to take a second to thank the coolest folks out there: iluvclarkkentxx, Izziebelle, and TearsOfTheForgotten. They reviewed every chapter so far and have helped keep me motivated. A couple other coolies to add to the list, lord of the potters and The Dagdah's Priestess--they rock as well. Okay, on to chapter 4.

* * *

I woke early the next morning, the sun's heated rays shining down on me through my bedroom window. I rolled over and reluctantly unswathed myself from the tangle of blankets at my feet. But I didn't get up, I continued to lay there lazily, my hands propped behind my head.

I closed my eyes and replayed the previous day's encounter with Davis in my head. He had been far easier to manipulate than I had ever dreamed. I had expected him to refuse me, to fight me every step of the way and force me to dig deeply into my bag of tricks until I found a method of seduction he couldn't resist.

But instead, he folded easily, like a house of cards. A little petting, a little sweet talking and he was putty in my hands, just as everyone before him was. He, too, genuflected before me and worshipped at the altar of Harry Potter. He attacked my cock, ravenous and eager, like it was his most prized possession, and then gluttonously swallowed every last drop of me as if it was his first meal in weeks. He worshipped my dick in the way it deserved to be worshipped.

How could I have been denying myself that feeling of power for so long? The control I felt as someone groveled before me was so sensational and so addictive. I needed it, I craved more of that feeling. And now that I had another taste of it, I wasn't about to let it go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I got ready and made my way downstairs for breakfast. Another oh-so-delicious scent, this time of grease and cinnamon, emanated from the kitchen. It was so thick and cloying my stomach was doing somersault after nauseated somersault. I quickly grabbed a bowl of cereal and all but ran out in hopes of escaping the smell.

I settled into a table at the far corner of the dining room and chanced taking one shallow breath through my nose. The stench had mostly dissipated, so I allowed myself to breath normally again, and turned my attention to the food in front of me. I kept my eyes down as I ate, no longer in an attempt to be invisible, but to close myself off so I could think, uninterrupted.

Who would be the next parishioner in my congregation of lechery? Should I go for Davis again? Should I go for a sure thing like Emerson? Or should I opt for someone that presented more of a challenge? After all, the chase was part of the fun.

One would think my options in such a place would be very limited; that I would first have to find someone that was actually gay and if I managed to do that, hope that they were willing have it off with me as well, leaving me with maybe one or two people to choose from. But the truth was, I found that even the most heterosexual of wizards wanted a romp with Harry Potter. In fact, in my heyday it seemed that most of the wizards I fucked were "happily" married to loving, doting wives.

And with a majority of the male population willing to go gay for me, and the entire population of this facility being in a fragile and vulnerable state, I was sure that most of them would crack for me under the littlest amount of pressure. As far as I could see, it was hard enough for a person of sound mind to resist my charm; inveigling someone that was already unbalanced would be like taking candy from a baby. I just needed to decide who that next target would be.

I took another bite of cereal and continued weighing my options. There were so many things to consider: the willingness of my candidate, the ease of getting them alone, their presumed experience. Or maybe I was thinking about it too much. Maybe I should just play the part of the fun, caring friend. Offer them my shoulder to cry on and see who comes running to stain my shirt with tears first. That might be the best approach...

_Screeecchhh...._My exultant train of thought was interrupted by the scrape of metal against hard linoleum. Someone pulled out the chair across from me, sat down without a word, and slowly began drumming their fingers on the table. I kept my eyes lowered, refusing to acknowledge the ass that thought it was a good idea to disrupt me.

I attempted to focus again but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't. My unwelcome visitor's incessant tapping reverberated through my skull, drowning out every spark of cogitation like water on flames. _Thdum, thdum, thdum, dum, dum. _It grated and gnawed away at my nerves. _Thdum, thdum, thdum, dum, dum._

"Can I fucking help you?!!" I seethed. I looked up, my eyes locking with steely grey ones.

"Jesus Potter," Malfoy spat. "Freak out much?"

"What the hell do _you_want Malfoy?"

"Still not happy with me I see," he said as he schooled his face into a calm, contemptuous mask. "Still a little angry that I sat in your seat at group, maybe?"

"Piss off, Malfoy," I warned.

"What?" He leaned back in his chair, hands folded on his chest. "I'm not judging you. Some of us deal with our feelings in civilized ways, while others choose to cry out for attention....like by cutting themselves with dilapidated desks, for instance. I mean, I only sat in your chair at group because I was trying to help you."

The heat I was now so familiar with started to course throughout my body, tincturing my skin a flushed pink. I couldn't deal with Malfoy's shit. I had to get out of there. I pushed myself away from the table and turned to leave, but firm hands gripped my shoulders, spun me around and pushed me back into the chair.

"Hang on a second, Potter." Malfoy leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "I didn't sit here to try to piss you off."

"Really? Because that's exactly what you're doing."

"No, just listen a second. I have spent the first several days here checking everyone out, taking everything in. And I have come to the conclusion that the only one here worthy of being my ally, unfortunately, is you. I mean, this place is so below us. We don't belong here with these buffoons."

"These _buffoons_ are my friends--something that you'll never be, so I don't know what you're playing at."

"I didn't say we had to be friends, Potter," he scoffed, "just _allies. _I'm sure you want out of here just as badly as I do and I think if we put our heads together and combine our magic," he leaned in further and lowered his voice to a whisper. "We could bust out of this place."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm dead serious. Have you looked at me, Potter? A person as good-looking as myself cannot survive in these conditions. I have certain...standards. I need out of here, and soon...So just think about it."

"Not likely."

"We'll see. You'll come around," he said confidently as he got up and strode out of the room.

_Draco Malfoy _wanted to be allies with _me? _He must have been desperate as hell to get out if he was willing to recruit me, of all people, for help. But why was he so desperate? What was going on with him? Why was he even in the loony bin to begin with? Certainly a Malfoy wouldn't willingly come to such a place. And judging by how desperate he was to get out, I was fairly certain someone other than his family had forced him to check in. So what was going on? I had to know.

I quickly got up and peered around the corner to see which direction he went. He was heading down the main hall towards Davis' office. Individual therapy maybe? I crept a little closer and ducked into a small alcove in the hallway.

Malfoy walked a few more feet before stopping at Davis' door. He knocked loudly, waited a moment, and then entered, closing the door tightly behind him. I dashed down the hall and put my ear to the door....nothing. I should have known better. The second you enter individual therapy, the healer casts silencing charms to ensure no one could eavesdrop, but I had just the way to get around it.

I ran as quickly as I could back upstairs towards my room, taking two steps at a time. When I reached my room, I burst through the door and began digging through the trunk at the foot of my bed. After emptying nearly it's entire contents onto the floor, I finally found the small, leather pouch I was looking for. I tucked it into my pocket and began my sprint back down to Davis' office, my lungs burning with each labored inhalation.

Once I reached Davis' hallway I slowed down, allowing myself to catch my breath. I crept towards the doctor's door and pulled the pouch back out of my pocket. After loosening it's strings, I fished around inside it until I felt my fingers close around a thin, flossy thread--_George's new and improved Invisible Extendable Ear--guaranteed to hear through any shields or wards, or your money back_!

I uncoiled the fishing-wire-like string, placing one end in my ear and feeding the other end under Davis' door. It was like someone had suddenly turned up the volume. I could hear Davis and Draco just as clearly as I could if we were all in the same room.

"Draco," the doctor pleaded. "If I am going to help you, you are going to have to trust me. Can we please just talk a little about the circumstances that lead up to you being placed here?"

"I'd rather not," Draco replied, his voice quiet and monotone.

"Obviously I know a little bit about it. And I understand how traumatic the whole thing must have been for you Draco, but you're never going to heal until you talk about what happened. Now tell me, what was your caretaker's name?"

"Fuck off," Draco stated matter-of-factly.

"Dolores, was it? And how did you end up in her care, Draco?"

"Fuck off," he replied again, his volume raising slightly.

"Okay Draco," the doctor sighed. "I have tried doing this the civil way for over a week now. But it looks like you're going to require a little more coercion."

I heard footsteps, cupboards opening, bottles clanking together.

"Veritaserum? Are your serious?" Draco scoffed.

"It's the only way to get you talking apparently." More scuffling noises filled my ear, followed by the unmistakable sound of a spell being fired off. A little shuffling and clanking later, and it sounded like Davis had once again taken his seat. He paused a few moments, presumably waiting for the potion to kick in.

"Okay, now let's try this again," the doctor started. "How did your family become acquainted with Dolores?"

"When my father used to frequent the Ministry he met her. She wasn't a Death Eater but she had similar ideals, so he struck up a quote-unquote _friendship_ with her. She also worked at Hogwarts for a short time. I was on her Inquisitorial Squad."

"Good, that's not so bad, is it?" The doctor didn't wait for an answer. "Now tell me, how did you end up in her care?"

"Death Eaters murdered my parents," he replied, his voice quivering slightly. "And their will stated that I could not take control of their estate and assets until I reached the age of eighteen."

"And?"

"And," he breathed. "Unbeknownst to me, it also stated that I was to have a caretaker until I reached that age. They decided _she _would be ideal as she had ties to the Ministry and could presumably keep me safe from any Death Eater witch hunts."

"Now tell me Draco, how was it being in Dolores' care?"

"Terrible," he replied.

"Why?"

There was no response. At first I thought that my extendable ear had stopped working--the room had gone completely silent.

But suddenly someone started to choke. Coughing and gurgling noises filled my ear, sending a wave of panic through me. Were they fighting? Was someone in trouble? Should I go for help? Desperate gasping and sputtering continued to radiate loudly. I needed to get someone, and fast. But just as I was ready to take off running, Davis spoke again.

"Draco, you can try to fight the Veritaserum all you want. But you're hurting yourself for no reason. It _will _make you talk eventually. Now again, tell me why being in Dolores' care was, as you said, terrible."

"BECAUSE SHE BOUND ME MAGICALLY IN HER BASEMENT," Malfoy screamed.

"And why did she do that?"

Malfoy began to cough wildly again. "TO MAKE SURE... I DIDN'T GO ANYWHERE," he choked.

"And why would she do that," the doctor prodded. "What did she do to you?"

"She," Malfoy started gasping for air again. He spat and gurgled and hacked until he finally broke down crying. "She fucked me," he whispered between sobs. "The sick, twisted fucking bitch kept me chained up, used a stiffening charm on me and fucked me. Are you happy now?"

"Harry," a voice coming up the hall startled me. I turned to see Wadsworth behind me. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, I...am...waiting to talk to Davis," I lied. I inconspicuously coiled up the extendable ear and tucked it back into my pocket. "It's been taking a while though, I think I am going to come back later."

I quickly scrambled to my feet and meandered toward the stairs, without another look back.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it was kind of short. Honestly I got a little frustrated with this chapter and just said the heck with it. The next one will be longer, and it won't take so long to get to you guys. Anyways, pretty, pretty please review. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not actually own Harry, Draco, etc, JK does. I do however own them in my dreams, and there I make them do dirty things.**

**Warning: Same old, same old. If you can't handle crazy folks, man-on-man action or foul language, I suggest you never come over to my house--or read this story.**

**P.S.-I officially joined nerd-ville yesterday. I got my first Harry Potter tattoo. It's adorable, I love it!**

**Anyways, sorry for making you wait. I re-wrote this entire chapter because I didn't like it--so I hope it's good now.  
**

**And again, I would like to thank the three coolest coolies ever, iluvclarkkentxx, TearOfTheForgotten and Izziebelle. You guys rock my world! **

**Okay, so here, finally, is chapter 5.  
**

* * *

I laid on the worn common room couch, my fingers pressed firmly against each lidded eye. But no matter how hard I pushed or what method I tried, nothing quelled the incessant throbbing inside my head. Instead it continued to ache and pulsate, just as it had been doing for the past ten hours.

I had woken up that morning in a good enough mood, my next lay being the only thing weighing on my mind. But the second I stepped out of my room, my day took an unexpected turn. Actually, not just one unexpected turn, a couple of unexpected turns, spinning me until I was dizzy, my head swirling continuously as it tried to catch up with everything that had happened.

It began with Malfoy confusing the hell out of me by asking me to align with him in an attempt to bust out of the crazy house. It was odd enough that he had spoken civilly to me, but the idea that he wanted me on his side seemed downright preposterous. And on a typical day, that would have been enough to throw me off kilter. However, just moments later I got sacked with more information that sent my mind spiraling out of control.

I discovered that Malfoy's parent's had been murdered, and by Death Eaters no less. That meant that Death Eaters were still out there somewhere, exacting their revenge on the people that helped take Voldemort down, and nobody chose to tell me about it. My friends and family members were potentially in danger, and no one thought that it was important enough to mention? Why couldn't they understand that ignorance wasn't bliss for me? I, of all people should be told of these things!

And as if that wasn't bad enough, I learned perhaps the most vile and disturbing thing I had ever heard in my life. When Malfoy's parents had died, Dolores Umbridge, the fat, squatty toad of a woman, had been asked to care for him. But rather than watching out for Draco, she obscenely abused her position as caretaker and instead opted to use him as her own personal sex toy.

Regardless of my distaste for the former Slytherin, my heart bled for him. No matter their past actions, nobody short of Voldemort deserved that kind of defilement. No one deserved a woman old enough to be their grandmother violating them, porcine fingers and waning skin forcing themselves upon unwilling and unsullied flesh.

A sickening image filled my mind, making me shudder.

No, not even Draco Malfoy deserved that abuse.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and attempted to wrest the picture from my head. But when I finally did, it was only replaced by other horrible images. No sunny meadows or babbling brooks, just visions of masked Death Eaters capturing my friends, torturing them until they plead for death. Visions of loved ones that had already fallen at the hands of blood-thirsty Death Eaters. Visions of _body after body lining cold stone floors._

_Bodies already touched by death, blood trickling from their mouths and pooling around their mangled bodies. Yet, despite their cadaverous condition, they began pulling themselves towards me, their fingers gnashing into rough stone as they hefted themselves closer. But I couldn't move, I stood there frozen. I had been there before, escaping their ensanguined grips with seconds to spare. But how did I do it? How did I get away?...Aha! My dagger. My silver savior. I reached deeply into my pockets searching for my guardian, my protector. But pocket after pocket turned up nothing. It was nowhere to be found. _

_My heart fell heavily as the realization came over me...I didn't have it._

_I looked back at the writhing bodies. They were getting closer, only three or four arms lengths away. I couldn't let them get me, let them take me to their murky graves, their never-ending expanse of nothingness. Despite my self-contempt I wasn't ready to go with them, not yet. So I ran._

_I ran as fast as I could, down the interminable hallway, the door at the end never getting any closer. I ran and ran, pushing my legs harder than they had ever been pushed, but it was all for naught. I was stuck in the same place, the corpses inching closer and closer to me as each second passed. I tried to run one last time but my traitorous legs failed, buckling under me after only a few strides. I hit the floor hard, my head cracking loudly as it collided with solid rock._

_It was all over. I could feel the bloody hands and sharp nails starting to dig at my ankles. They grasped me tightly and dragged me across the rough, unforgiving floor. With each pull, my face rubbed more and more raw against the jagged stones, leaving behind chunks of my flesh like some sort of macabre bread crumb trail. _

_But it didn't hurt. _

_Maybe death wouldn't be so terrible after all. I could just give in and let them take me, let them have their way with me and before I knew it, it would all be over. It was tempting. _

_But succumbing to death would be the easy way out. And although part of my brain begged to me to slip into that eternal sleep, the other part told me to keep fighting. I am Harry Potter after all. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One—I could get out of anything, dagger or no dagger._

_I frantically began kicking my legs, my feet striking the corpses' brittle heads with a force so great that their skulls began to crack and crumble._

_"Help me!" I yelled to no one. "Please, get me out of here!" I continued to kick until I eventually freed myself from the dead bodies' grips. I quickly picked myself up and began running towards the ever-evading door. But this time I was getting closer. After only a few long strides, I was in front of it, banging on the dark wood as loudly as I could._

_"Please, someone help!" I furiously banged my fists until my knuckles split open and started to bleed, but no one was coming to help me. I looked over my shoulder at the cadaver-ridden floor. The bodies were still coming, still crawling towards me, ravenous expressions on their otherwise lifeless faces._

_"Please!" I wailed. _

_Suddenly my body began to shake, not trembling in fear, but shaking violently, like invisible hands had grabbed my shoulders and were shaking me as hard as they could._

_"Harry, wake up!" a disconnected voice called. I breathed a sigh of relief. Someone was here to save me._

_"Harry, come on!" my angel's voice echoed in my ears. "Open your eyes!"_

_I did as he asked and allowed my eyes to slowly flutter open. I was no longer in a dark, dank hallway, but in a bright room, florescent lights shining down on my face. The sudden, severe contrast made my eyes sting and blinded me for a moment._

When my vision came back, I looked around and took in my surroundings. To my left was an old rabbit-eared t.v. balancing on bright blue milk crates, next to that, a broken book case with only two usable shelves, and directly in front of me, on the wall, was a creepy cat clock that's eyes and tail moved as each second ticked. All of these things indicated that I was still in the common room. Even the ratty couch I was laying on and the even rattier pillow I was clutching indicated that I hadn't gone anywhere. But I did go somewhere, didn't I?

"What the hell happened?" I asked the group of people that had gathered around me.

"Well," a familiar voice began. Draco pushed through the thin crowd until he was standing right in front of me. "I was trying to watch the telly and you started mumbling in your sleep. I ignored it, but then the mumbling turned into screaming. You kept yelling 'help me' so I shook you awake to shut you up."

"Oh," was all I managed to reply. What was wrong with me? It seemed like the line between fantasy and reality was slowly fading away; I didn't know where one ended and the other began. Dreams seemed real and reality felt like a dream. I had to get a hold of myself. I couldn't afford these kinds of fuck-ups if I ever wanted to get out of the loony bin. I had to get back in control--in control of myself and in control of the world around me.

"Harry, please come with me," Davis called over the crowd. Perfect. The timing couldn't have been better.

"Excuse me," I said as I shoved through my audience. "Get a move on, show's over." When I finally broke through the crowd, I danced over to Davis' side.

"To my office please," he said curtly before he took off down the hall.

When we got to his room he cast some silencing charms on the door and then gestured for me to sit on the couch.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat loudly. "Harry, I want to know what just happened," he said as he sat in the chair across from me.

"Why don't you want to sit next to me?" I asked making my best puppy-dog eyes.

"Harry, let's not do this, okay? That thing that happened between us was a mistake, a mistake I could lose my job for."

"But I would never tell," I cooed.

"It doesn't matter. It's not professional and it's not going to happen again. I don't want it to happen again. Now please, tell me what just happened out there."

"Nightmare, I guess."

I studied Davis carefully. Sure he had said he didn't want anything to happen between us again, but looking at him, I could tell he was lying. The way his eyes scanned me slowly from top to bottom, the way he kept moistening his lips with his tongue--everything about his posture, his demeanor, told me that he wanted me. And sure his position as my doctor might have made him a little apprehensive, but I could tell that wasn't the reason he was holding back. If I had to bet money on it, I would say someone was a little miffed about our previous encounter--a little upset maybe that his needs were not fulfilled. So if an equal opportunity fuck was what he wanted, then that's what I would give him.

"Harry, please. We are not going to get anywhere if you don't tell me about this dream."

And as if my eyes were simply faucets, I instantly turned on the water works. Tear after tear streamed down my cheeks, my nose, my pouting lips.

"It was awful," I choked. "There were bodies everywhere. It was just so, so..." I let the tears overwhelm me; consume me until I was nothing but a big, blubbering mess. My body heaved with each sob, and before I knew it, Davis was by my side with a box of tissues.

He sat down next to me on the couch, tentatively putting his arm around my shoulders.

"Harry, it's going to be okay, I promise. Things will get better," he soothed.

Cautiously, I leaned in closer and nuzzled myself into the crook of his neck. I inhaled deeply, his glorious, musky scent dancing through my nose and swirling around my already libidinous brain. My cock twitched eagerly.

I couldn't wait around resting on my laurels any longer. I prepared to pounce. Slowly, carefully, I brought my mouth to Davis' neck, my lips ghosting across his goose-pimpled flesh. A small moan escaped him. That was a good sign.

I trailed my lips, my tongue up the column of his throat, my moist, wispy kisses leaving a cool trail in their wake. When my mouth reached his, I kissed him gently, his soft lips responding ever so slightly. Another good sign. I kissed him a little harder, a little deeper, and when he responded with his own kisses, my tongue found the slight part in his lips and traced around it, begging for entrance. And to my surprise, he readily obliged, sucking my tongue into his mouth.

Our tongues swayed in unison, like some perfectly choreographed dance that we had practiced a million times before. The irony being I I hadn't kissed anyone that passionately, that intimately in what seemed like an eternity. But I reminded myself, that was all part of the plan. Seduce him by being the caring, giving lover that he yearned for, but when things got heavy, reign him back in and take control. Whether he knew it or not, I was always in control.

We continued kissing feverishly, but Davis suddenly pulled away, a wanton, pleading look in his eyes. He thread his fingers through my tousled hair, grabbing a small clump at my crown. And then, with an almost undetectable amount of pressure, he gently coaxed my head towards his still clothed groin.

Great, he wanted oral.

I had only a handful of times in my life allowed myself to be the giver of fellatio. I had of course received, many, many times, but giving just seemed so demeaning to me. Sitting there on your knees in front of someone, as if you were a street urchin begging for a morsel of food, was not something I enjoyed. I was the one whose dick everyone craved. I was the one that blessed people with the gift of my cock, not the other way around.

But again, I had to play it cool. I had to play the part of the loving partner for just a little while longer--kiss him, caress him, give him what he wanted, and then he would be mine.

I slowly lowered myself to the floor, situating myself between Davis' parted knees. Gently trailing my hands up and down his legs, I tried my best to prolong the inevitable, but his excitement got the best of him and Davis quickly tore off his pants and boxers and cast them aside like useless trash. He sat back down in front front of me, his cock inches away from my face.

I leaned in closer, his shaft firmly grasped in my left hand, and dutifully licked the clear liquid that had begun to weep from the tip.

"Mmmm...uhhh," Davis moaned incoherently.

I smirked--putty in my hands.

I continued to lick and suck the head until I couldn't bear to do it any longer. In one swift motion, I took the entire length of his mediocre cock in my mouth and slid up and down the shaft in liquid, undulating motions. I sucked and sucked to the point where my mouth was beginning to get sore, but Davis didn't seem close to finishing

So to sweeten the pot, and hopefully end the torture sooner, I snaked my right hand up Davis' leg, his thigh, until I reached his balls. I carefully grasped them between my fingers and gently rolled them around, in time with the bobbing of my head. The added sensation seemed to help.

Davis began bucking his hips wildly, his impending orgasm evident. But just before he reached climax, I pulled away and stood up in front of him.

"What the hell," he whined between pained gasps. "I was almost there."

"Well," I said, doing my best to look sweet and seductive. "I really like you, and I thought maybe we could share something a little more special."

Realization dawned across his face. "Oh. Really?" he asked. "I would love that."

I offered Davis my hand, which he readily accepted, pulled him up and walked him over to the end of the couch. Bending him gently over the arm, I began planting soft kisses up and down his back, my warm breath making him writhe and squirm beneath me.

He wanted my dick and I was ready to give it to him.

I continued to kiss and caress him, anything to distract him from the fact that I was undressing and positioning myself at his entrance. Once I was finally ready, I debated as to whether or not I should ask him to cast a quick lubrication charm, but I thought better of it. That would take away the element of surprise, give him time to prepare for me. Instead I spit in the palm of my hand, rubbed it over my cock and then without warning, plunged into him.

"Uhh," he grunted with a mix of pain and pleasure.

With just the first thrust my dick was entirely sheathed inside him. I sat still a moment, giving Davis a second to get used the sensation. After all, I didn't want to hurt him _too_ badly. I wasn't that cruel.

Then, grabbing on to his hips firmly for leverage, I began pumping in long, even strokes, my dick moving in and out of his tight hole with relative ease.

And each time I forced my dick back inside of him, Davis moaned loudly, like a shameless whore. It was....inspiring.

As I continued thrusting, I pulled my right hand back, and with as much force as I could muster, I slapped his ass.

"Uhhh!"

"You like that bitch?" I growled into the doctor's ear. He nodded in response. Ignoring the stinging and tingling in my hand, I pulled it back again and planted another firm slap on his backside.

"Are you my whore?" I asked, my voice suddenly husky with lust. Dominance turned me on to no end.

"Are you?" I asked again as I grabbed a clump of his hair and turned his head to face me.

"Mmm hmm." he mumbled.

"Good." I released my grip on his golden locks and once again grabbed his hips tightly. I began ramming into him as hard as I could, in and out, in and out. After a few moments, I couldn't take it any longer, and with one final, strong thrust, I exploded, spilling my seed inside of him.

I fought back the urge to collapse onto Davis in exhaustion. I couldn't afford to put myself in that vulnerable of a position--it might be misconstrued as cuddling or as showing affection. I had to stay in control. So instead I quickly got up and threw on my clothes.

"Wait, where are you going?" Davis called, still bent over the couch.

"I have to go," I called as I ran out the door. "See ya around!" And with that, I was gone.

* * *

**A/N: So I am hoping no one is mad that I took so long--this chapter is the longest one so far after all--and I had to rewrite it because I didn't like the original. But anyway, I am going to have another chapter posted by Tuesday--scout's honor. I have the whole weekend free to write and I have monday off (yay, banker's holidays.) So only a few more days--**

**And pretty pretty pretty please review! Reviews make me super happy!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter--J.K. does. Damn.  
**

**Warning: If you can't handle foul language, crazy people or sweet, sweet man-banging, don't read :)**

**P.S.- Did I say I would update Tuesday? I totally meant Wednesday :) Anyways, this chapter is kind of a shorter, filler chapter. You have to have those once in a while I guess.**

* * *

I ran from Davis' office, doing the best I could to hold back the shit-eating grin that threatened to consume my entire face. I was on cloud nine. I had gotten what I wanted and I was on top of the world again. Harry Potter was untouchable.

I slowed as I reached the common room, my eyes scanning the area for a place to collect my thoughts. As I looked around, my gaze settled on the window seat and the blonde that occupied it.

Draco sat sprawled out, oblivious to everything around him. He stared intently at the street below, his face bathed in the soft glow of the street lamps outside. His champagne hair shone silver in the gentle light, his pale skin a perfect porcelain. He looked so serene...so...angelic? I laughed a little at the thought.

I continued to study Draco. He really was quite attractive. With his eyes of molten silver, his smooth skin, his defined jaw and his pouty lips, he possessed a sort of androgynous beauty, one that I could certainly appreciate.

To my surprise, my cock began to stir ever so slightly.

Ha, Draco Malfoy? Who would have thought?

Well, I guess I shouldn't have been _all_ that surprised by the sudden tenting in my pants. I had always known that Malfoy was good-looking, beautiful really, even in school. But my hatred for the prat had always trumped any other thoughts I had had about him. And as a result, he was never anything more to me than an obnoxious, Death Eater wannabe that always managed to get in the way.

But seeing him in front of me in his raw form, exquisite, statuesque, as well as heartbreakingly vulnerable, I felt like I was really, truly seeing him for the first time. There was no haughtiness, no arrogance, no mask, just a stripped-down version of Draco, a broken young man that had been to Hell and back and somehow managed to get out alive. I felt bad for him. He had been through so much, and really, my heart did ache for the former Slytherin. But unfortunately, I never really paid that much attention to my heart. I ruled with another, more prominent part of myself—my dick. And it seemed that my dick wanted to fuck him.

My next mission was to conquer Draco Malfoy.

I took a seat in the chair closest to window, lazily propping my feet up on the table in front of me. Draco looked up at the disturbance.

"Potter," he acknowledged with a nod. "Are you here because you have reconsidered my offer?"

"I have," I said with a smirk.

"Really? Well then we need to get a game plan together. We need to figure out how we're going to do this."

I held a finger to my lips.

"This isn't something we should discuss openly," I whispered as I glanced around the room. "Follow me." I stood up, Draco following suit, and walked briskly out of the common room and down the long corridor. I peered in every door we passed, searching eagerly for the doctor and the orderly that were on duty. After looking in every room on that floor, I finally spotted Davis in the last one before the stairwell--Emerson's room. That was one authority figure accounted for.

I ran up the stairs quickly, taking two steps at a time.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, out of breath.

"First we are looking for Orderly Smithson, and then we are going to my room."

The blonde narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Why are we looking for him and why do we have to go to your room?"

"Trust me; I just need to know where he is. And we are going to my room so no one will overhear us," I stated matter-of-factly.

"I see...Promise me you're not trying to pull a fast one. You're not going to like, try and beat me or anything the second the door shuts, are you?"

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. The honest answer was yes, but I was sure he wasn't referring to the kind of beating I had in mind.

"I swear. Now come on." I tip-toed quietly. Faint voices from somewhere down the hallway, the game room maybe, getting louder and louder with each step that we took.

After a few more steps, when we reached the game room, I paused outside of the door and peered in. Smithson sat at a table towards the back of the room, his back to us, talking to Adam, a boy we referred to as the "lifer." They looked deep in conversation and it seemed as though they were going to be occupied for a while. Perfect.

I grabbed Draco and pulled him hastily towards my room. When we got inside I shut the door behind us, pushed Draco aside, and immediately began concentrating, focusing my mind. I closed my eyes, my hands facing upward and pictured bubbles of lustrous magic forming in each palm. I pushed and strained and worked them inside of my head, bigger and bigger, until they were both the size of grapefruits. Then carefully, my eyes still closed, I worked my hands over the door until a glittery web of magic stretched over it, covering it completely.

Fatigued from pushing myself so hard, I stood there a moment, frozen in place, trying to catch my breath. After a few minutes, I finally willed my heavy eyes to open so I could examine my work.

Just looking at the door, I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, so I slowly extended my hand towards it, index finger first, in hopes of getting some sort of confirmation that my efforts had paid off. And just as my finger was about an inch away from the door, it was abruptly stopped by an invisible force. I pushed again, harder, and a faint, shimmery glow shone back at me like a force field of tiny, sparkling diamonds. The second I pulled my hand away, it disappeared.

It had worked.

I turned my attention back to Draco and sat down next to him on the bed.

"So...we were going to talk strategy, right?" I asked. I did my best not to seem too eager. After all, I didn't want to scare him off.

But Draco didn't respond. He sat there, unmoving, his jaw on the floor like he had just seen a ghost. I waved a hand in front of his face.

"Hello??"

"Potter, what the hell did you just do?" he asked incredulously. He stood up and began to pace the length of the small room.

"What? I put a silencing charm on the door. We don't want anyone to hear our plans, right?"

"Oh, a silencing charm, _that's all_?" he said in a mocking tone. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah...why, what's the big deal?" _Shit...was he catching on to my plan?_

"Potter, we don't need a fucking game plan. You can do wandless magic--that's all we need to get out of here! Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"

"Oh, uh, I guess I didn't think it was important."

"Ha, not important? Seriously? Tell me Potter, why the hell haven't you broken out already? I would have been long gone if I didn't need a wand."

"Well, it's not that easy," I sighed. "There are a few things to consider."

Draco stopped pacing and walked back over to the bed, taking a seat on its edge. He looked at me expectantly, a genuine look of curiosity on his face.

"Like what," he asked.

"Well, first off, there are wandless magic detectors in the building. So if anyone uses it or attempts to use it, an alarm sounds in the doctors' offices and in the therapy rooms."

"So that's why you were checking to see where everyone was," he stated knowingly.

"Right. And doing that kind of magic can sometimes take longer, so I have to make sure the staff is good and occupied, and that they will be for a while. Otherwise I run the risk of getting caught."

"Is that it?--because that seems pretty easy to get around to me."

"Well, even though I can do wandless magic, I don't want to bust out of here _without_ my wand. And my wand, along with everyone else's, is locked up in Davis' office."

"And? We should be able to get them with no problem. I'm failing to see the issue here."

"I guess there is no issue _now_. I couldn't do it before because I was working alone. With two of us though, blowing this joint should be cake." Draco's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. He scooted over on the bed, closer to me, his head only inches away from mine.

"Potter, if I didn't despise you so much, I could hug you right now." Draco's warm breath danced across my face sending tingles down my spine and making the hair on the back of my neck, and my dick, stand at attention.

"Is that so?" I said, a smirk spreading across my face, but I didn't move. I sat there and allowed the tension between our almost touching bodies to heighten, to thicken to the point that it could be cut with a knife. And surprisingly, Draco didn't move either. He too just sat there, his steely grey eyes boring into mine. The silence between us grew increasingly awkward, neither of us making an attempt to break it.

_What better place then here, what better time than now? _I thought to myself.

I leaned in slowly, my eyes still locked with Draco's. He wasn't flinching, he wasn't backing away, so in one swift motion, I swooped in, crashing my lips into his. I kissed him deeply, his warm, plump lips molding into mine. And for a split second, I swore he kissed me back.

Draco reached up, tangling his fingers into my ebony locks. I readied myself, anxiously awaiting him to intensify our kisses, but instead he pulled my hair, wrenching my head away from his. He stood up quickly and looked down at me.

The look on his face was hard to read--it wasn't of pure hatred, like I expected. It was more of shock, confusion maybe.

"Jesus, Potter. I know you have been in here a while but that doesn't mean you have to jump the first decent looking thing to cross your path. Now let me out of here."

I closed my eyes and quickly disassembled the shield covering the exit. When I opened them again, Draco had already opened the door and was leaving.

"Get ahold of yourself, man," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared out of sight.

I lifted my fingers to my mouth, brushing them lightly against the place where Draco's lips had just been. It felt cold, empty.

Even though things hadn't played out like I had hoped, I wasn't going to let one failed attempt break my stride. I _would_ have Draco Malfoy, one way or another.

* * *

**A/N: I know this chapter wasn't super long or super interesting, but I felt I had to get some boring stuff out of the way. I have some fun things planned for next chapter :)**

**And for anyone that noticed, yes, I was listening to Guerilla Radio earlier :) You all may too young for that though **sighs** I'm old.  
**

**Anyways, pretty pretty pretty please review! If I don't get reviews, I am going to hunt you all down, and beg for reviews in person. Could you really turn me down then? I have a mean puppy dog face :) Mwa-haha! (j/k-obviously)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, the series would have included a lot more smut :)**

**Warning: If you do not like foul language, crazy folks, man-loving, etc--go elsewhere. This story is strictly for sickos (such as myself) that thrive off of that stuff.**

**P.S.- I am also giving you a fair warning that there is a kind of gross scene in this chapter--just giving you a heads up so you can't say I didn't warn you :)**

**P.S.S- I am sorry this took so long. I usually type my story right into my account, so not being able to log in for like four whole days totally threw me off schedule. Alright, anyways, here's Chapter 7.**

* * *

Warm pads of soft flesh gamboled mirthfully over my pale skin, their heat contrasting sharply with the cool air around us. I shivered and goose-pimpled in response, thousands of nearly invisible hairs standing at attention.

My lover continued to caress me, his long, elegant fingers tracing circles over the planes of my hardened chest, down the bumpy path of my ribs, until they came to rest in the silken trail just below my navel. I inhaled deeply and tried to calm myself, for I knew what was coming next. I was about to get the one thing in the world that I wanted most.

My lover's hands continued to dance in the sparse forest, his fingers playfully fluffing it's satiny down, only to smooth it flat again, flush with my abdomen. I twisted and writhed beneath him, the torment from that simple action causing my body to ache wantonly.

I was a junkie in need of a fix. I yearned to feel that familiar warmth, to have it course through my veins and spread to every part of my body, tincturing my flesh pink. I craved that high, that rush, and I couldn't wait for it any longer.

I tentatively reached a hand to my lover's head, gently tucking a wayward tendril behind his ear. His flaxen locks were soft, like threads of fine silk that weren't meant to be sullied by hands such as mine. But even though I didn't deserve the angel or the gifts he had to offer, I wove my fingers greedily through his hair and coaxed his head towards my throbbing cock.

I looked down at him, his eyes of liquid silver locking with mine. He held my gaze as he lowered his head and enveloped my entire shaft in the warm cavern of his mouth. He got to work right away, his tongue expertly switching between flicking the tip of my cock and licking its underside with long, smooth strokes.

Within moments my belly began tingling, swimming tempestuously with the promise of release. With my back arching and my fingers digging into the cool sheets below, I braced myself for what was about to come.

But just as my pleasure was crescendoing to the point of orgasm, a sharp pain ripped through my body, more specifically, through my cock. It burned into me deeply, like the fire of Hades had lapped at me with her scorching tongue. It was excruciating.

But despite the pain, I mustered as much effort as I possibly could and pushed myself on to my elbows so I could see what had happened. And when my eyes found the source of my agony, bile came rushing up my throat and ejaculated out of my mouth, covering my chest in vomit.

My lover was there, still kneeling before me, his mouth painted with blood like some morbid circus clown.

And dangling from his beautiful lips were chunks of bloodied, gristly flesh.

My flesh.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. Clutching my throat, I felt around and tried to figure out what was wrong with my voice, but could find nothing.

I tried screaming again, but realized quickly that my attempts were futile. I turned my gaze back to my lover, pleading him with my eyes to end my misery, to make the pain stop.

But he just stared at me, his familiar grey eyes unrecognizable. He wasn't my lover, but a monster. And in one swift motion, the monster slurped the rest of my hanging flesh into his mouth like spaghetti, licking his lips to get every last drop.

I fainted in horror, my head falling back onto the soft pillow below me.

XXXXXXXXXXX

When I opened my eyes again, I was for once relieved that I was still in the crazy house, still in my closet of a room. But even so, I carefully lifted the thin sheet covering me and looked down, afraid of what I might see. There was no vomit, no blood. Everything looked fine. There was only one thing left to check.

I reached my hand down, slipping my fingers under the waistband of my boxers and gently lifted. My dick was still there, whole, in all of its lengthy glory. And despite the morbid end to my dream, it was still rock hard.

Freud, Trelawney even--any one of those quacks would have told me that my dream was a warning of things to come--that it showed me I should put an end to my whorish ways before something terrible happened--before I hurt someone, before I self-destructed. They would call it an omen, something I should take seriously.

It is damn good thing I never bought into that dream interpretation shit.

The only thing I was concerned about having blue balls, and if I left matters unattended, that is exactly what I would be left with. I needed to take care of my erection and fast--and Pamela Handerson just wasn't going to cut it.

I quickly got up, throwing on the previous day's clothes as a formality. They smelled dirty, but it didn't matter. If everything went as planned, they would just be crumpled up on the floor again in a matter of minutes.

I ran to the mirror and gave myself a quick once over. Deciding I looked good enough, I skipped into the hall and down the stairs to the common room.

When I arrived, it looked as though everyone was already down there, passing their never-ending time with pointless things like chess and muggle cartoons. It was kind of sad really. But I could help them, or at least I could provide them with something a little more entertaining to do.

I scanned the room, looking everyone over carefully, trying to decide who my best prospect was. Davis was down there, but I didn't dare go near him after our last encounter. Emerson was there too, but something in my gut told me he was inexperienced. Who knew if he would even be able to get me off?

That left a few others; Jacob, already had that, Adam, too crazy, and then there was Draco. My heart sped up a little. Should I try for Draco again? He was so beautiful, so exquisite; everyone paled in comparison to him. He was the prize I so desperately wanted, the prize the great Harry Potter deserved.

I closed my eyes for a moment and replayed the first glorious half of the previous night's dream in my head. There was no doubt that Draco had been my night-time lover. He was the one whose gentle touch had driven me mad. He was the one whose mouth had serviced me so thoroughly that I was ready to explode in mere minutes. But that also meant that he was the one that had torn off chunks of my dick with his teeth and swallowed them whole.

On second thought, maybe I wouldn't go for Draco right away. Perhaps once I could wrest the cannibalistic image of him from my mind, I would be able to try working my magic again.

Someone else would have to do for the time being.

I looked around again, weighing my options.

"Hey Harry," Emerson called as he waved me over. "Come sit here!" And my mind was made up for me.

"Hey Em," I smiled. "Whatcha up to?" I asked, sitting uncomfortably close to him on the couch. His body stiffened immediately.

"Oh, just watching some muggle show," he said as he shifted in his seat.

"You mind leaving it for a bit?"

"Um, no, I guess not."

"Good, come with me." I smiled and grabbed his hand. His palm was slick with sweat, his body trembling slightly.

"So where are we going?" he asked nervously.

"To my room."

"Uh, wha-why are we going to your room?"

"I want to talk to you," I purred. I grabbed his hand tighter, pulling him up the stairs and down the long hallway. When we reached my room, I tugged him inside and shut the door behind us.

"Have a seat," I said gesturing to the bed.

I turned back to the door, closed my eyes and began picturing orbs of shimmering magic forming in each of my upturned hands. After getting my mind focused, they immediately began to materialize. Starting the size of peas, the magic stretched in my palms, to the size of golf balls, and then bigger and bigger until they rivaled basketballs in size. Then quickly, but carefully, I stretched the magic over the entire doorway. And in about half the time and with about half the effort I had used previously, the shield was soundly in place.

I turned back to Emerson, who had apparently been awkwardly staring out the window the whole time. I walked over and gingerly sat down on the bed next to him.

"So," I said as I reached up and gently turned the boy's face towards mine. "I wanted to talk to you Em."

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Okay. About what?"

"Do you like me Emerson?"

"I, yes...of course I do."

"Good, I like you too." I paused a moment. "Do you _like me_, like me, Em?" His body went rigid again. He looked at me, his eyes the size of saucers. "Don't be afraid to tell me the truth," I cooed. " I can handle it either way."

"Why are you asking me this?" he questioned, his eyes turned downward.

"Because, I really like you Emerson. And....Well," I huffed. "I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"Me?" he asked, his cheeks turning a deep red. "_You_ want to kiss _me_?"

"I do. Would you let me kiss you Emerson? Please?" He slowly nodded his head, a look of disbelief on his face.

I leaned in slowly, cupping his cheek in my palm, and pressed my lips to his. His lips were soft, not quite as pillowy as Draco's, but they would do. I kissed him tenderly, his mouth responding with stiff, closed-mouthed pecks.

After a moment, deciding my efforts were going nowhere fast, I reached my hand behind Emerson's head for leverage, and pushed, forcing my tongue between his lips. Emerson gasped, but the sound was quickly swallowed up by my assailing mouth.

I continued kissing him hard, my tongue plunging in and out rhythmically. And after a moment, Emerson began responding with similar strokes, his tongue darting tentatively into my mouth, exploring my lips, my teeth, my tongue. Things were moving along quite well, so I decided to try to take things further.

Breaking our kiss, I grabbed Emerson's hand and placed it on my groin.

"Do you see how much I like you Em? Do you see what you're doing to me?" The boy blushed again. "Em, have you ever done anything with another guy?"

"Um, well, no," he admitted sheepishly.

"A girl?"

"Yeah...my neighbor, she, well, you know."

"What? Gave you a blow job maybe?"

He nodded.

"And it felt really good, right?"

He nodded again.

"Have you ever thought about what it might feel like to give one? I think you would be really good at it."

"Really?" he asked. It was my turn to nod.

"I just want you so badly Emerson. You felt how hard my dick is. It's that hard because _you_ made it that way. Something about you just gets me going. Please," I said holding his hand and pleading with me eyes. "Can you take care of it for me?"

Instead of responding, Emerson slid off the bed and knelt on the floor in front of me. He reached his hands up, his fingers trembling as they fumbled with the button and zipper on my jeans. When he finally got them undone, he slid my pants and my boxers down my legs until they puddled loosely around my ankles.

He looked up at me, his eyes locking with mine as he grabbed my dick and lowered his head to meet it. He began licking me, the way a child would lick a lollipop, up and down, his tongue sticking all the way out. It felt good, and something about the innocence and naivete of it all made my cock throb harder.

I closed my eyes, enjoying every lick, every squeeze. And Emerson continued working, his tongue moving faster and faster up and down my shaft. But as good as it felt, I needed more.

"Em? Do you think you could suck on it--put it your mouth?"

The boy looked up, nodded, and then got back to work. Taking about half of my cock in his mouth, he wrapped his lips tightly around the shaft and began moving up and down. With each downward stroke, he took in more and more of me, until only about an inch of my cock was left uncovered. But that wouldn't do. I needed him to take all of me, to choke down every last inch of my dick.

I threaded my fingers through his ebony locks, gripping a large section at the back of his head. I pulled him in carefully, my dick sliding deeply into his mouth--deeper and deeper until the tip hit the back of his throat.

"Am I hurting you?" I asked. Instead of attempting to speak with a mouthful of cock, he just shook his head. "Em, can I push it in a little more?" He looked up at me, his eyes full of trust, and nodded.

I gripped his hair tightly, and without warning, thrust my dick down his throat as far as I could. Emerson coughed and his eyes watered, but I held his head in place, making him get used to the feeling. When he stopped coughing, I resumed thrusting, slamming my cock down his throat as hard as I could.

I pushed and thrusted and Emerson choked and gagged on me, his face turning red from lack of air. I pulled away a moment to let him breath, and then continued skull-fucking him. Tears began streaming down his reddened cheeks and his body started heaving each time my dick bottomed-out in his throat--but I couldn't stop. I kept pushing into him, the sound of his gagging drowned out by my own heated grunts.

After a few moments, my balls started contracting, readying to empty themselves. I gripped the back of his head with both of my hands and slammed into him one last time, as hard as I possibly could, coating the back of Emerson's throat with spurt after spurt of my spunk. When I pulled away, Emerson leaned on the bed coughing, my cum gurgling in his throat as he tried to catch his breath.

I pulled on my boxers and my pants, and then held my hand out to him, helping him up next to me. I cradled him in my arms, pushing strands of hair off of his sweaty face.

"You did such a good job," I said as I kissed his forehead. Despite the abuse he had taken, he looked up at me and smiled.

"I'm glad." he said, his eyes struggling to stay open.

"Why don't you get some rest," I offered. "You can sleep in here if you want."

"Yeah, maybe just for a few minutes." He laid down, nuzzling his head into my pillow. I leaned over, planting one last kiss on his forehead, and left him to sleep.

I made my way back down to the common room, plopping down on the threadbare couch. Nearly everyone was gone, except for Draco, who was still at the window seat, staring down at the street below. But when he saw me come in, he got up and sat down in the chair next next to me.

"So you like taking advantage of young, stupid groupies, huh?" he asked as he settled into his seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied non-chalantly, my fingers picking at the loose threads on the cushion below me.

"Please, I'm on to you. You're a wolf in sheep's clothing Harry Potter. But seeing that I denied you, who you fuck is your business, not mine." An unfamiliar, pained expression crossed his face. I studied him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but before I could make any sense of it, he had schooled his face back into the typical, haughty Malfoy glare.

"Listen Potter, I think we should meet again tonight. Talk through our strategy. I want out of here next week, so we have to get moving."

"Okay, where and what time?"

"My room, after the eleven o'clock rounds. Can you handle that?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright, see you then Potter," he said as he stood up and strode away.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews make me so happy :) And they make me want to write faster ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I really, really wished I owned Harry Potter, but alas, I don't :( Izziebelle and I almost owned his pants though, does that count for anything?**

**Warning: If you do not like cussing, crazy folks and slutty men, I don't get you. I thrive on them, and so does this story.**

**P.S- Yay! I'm so glad to be feeling better! Being sick sucks :( Anyways, I wanted to take a second to thank the folks that reviewed last chapter because I didn't really get a chance to respond individually.**

**Izziebelle-You obviously know you rock  
****illuvclarkkentxx- You also already know you rock  
****Dagdah's Priestess- Thanks! I really appreciate the positive feedback you give!  
automatikjoy and nikki narcosis- Thanks for hopping on board! Hope you enjoy!**

**Also, just wanted to give you guys a heads up. I have been working on another story that I will start posting around the end of the month. I think it will be fun! Anyways, here is Chapter 8.  
**

* * *

I held my breath as I laid still in my bed, careful not to make a sound. My stomach churned uneasily as knots and butterflies cohabitated inside of it. It was 10:40. Davis would be making rounds in about twenty minutes, which meant that in about twenty-one minutes, I would have to make a break for it.

Ever since Draco had we requested we meet in private earlier that day, I hadn't been able to think of anything else. The prospect of sneaking around behind the doctors' backs was intriguing and exciting and nerve-wracking all at the same time. But more than that, the idea of meeting privately with Draco, late at night, with no one else around made my stomach flutter, my heart skip a beat.

I couldn't deny that the former Slytherin had an overwhelming effect on me. The hatred and disgust I once harbored for him was replaced by tolerance and curiosity. He wasn't the same loathsome prat he was in school. He was smart, funny, and oddly enough, passive. Little annoyances just slid off his shoulders and he even seemed to go out of his way to avoid conflict. He got along really well with all of the residents, talking openly with them, laughing with them.

Draco was a charmer to say the least, except for when it came to me. He didn't go out of his way to include me in his conversation; he didn't clamor for my attention like everyone else there did. When it came to me he was just…well, indifferent. And needless to say, that wasn't something I was used to.

Typically when someone brought up my name, people gave one of two polar responses. Either they would sing my praise, calling me their savior and the best thing to ever happen to the wizarding world, or they (the stupid ones at least) would say I was nothing but a trouble-maker, a nuisance.

But rarely were people indifferent.

And perhaps it was that indifference that had be so intrigued by Draco. That of course, and his gorgeous face, extraordinary body, his hands, his mouth, his lips, his tongue. Everything about him made me ache for more.

Conquering Draco was my new mission, and I wouldn't quit until that mission was accomplished.

But for the time being, a secret meeting would have to do.

I put the tip of my Invisible Extendable Ear up to my own ear, and listened patiently for some sign of life in the hallway. As predicted, just seconds later I heard footsteps. They started off faint, barely registering, even with the Extendable Ear. But after a few moments, they got louder and louder until they stopped directly in front of my door. I turned over in my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin to hide the t-shirt and jeans I was still clothed in. Then I waited.

The lock clicked and the door swung open, its hinges screeching painfully.

"11 o'clock rounds." Davis muttered, his pen scratching notes in my chart. He lingered in my room and I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. He stood there for what was probably only minutes, but for what felt like hours, eventually sighing and then leaving, locking the door behind him.

I listened carefully again through my Extendable Ear. I could hear Davis check the last two rooms on the floor and then retreat to the stairs, his shoes echoing loudly in the cavernous stairwell as he headed back down to the first floor. It was time to act.

I flung the covers off of me, then carefully arranged piles of clothes and pillows underneath them in hopes of replicating my sleeping form. _It worked in muggle movies, right? _

Once it looked good enough, I stood in front of my bedroom door, and mentally gathered up as much magic as I could, as quickly as I could. Within moments, shocks began coursing through the stale air of my bedroom, sparking like tiny fireflies. I could feel the static electricity pulse around me, just waiting to be released, so I thrust my hand out in front of me, my palm parallel with the door, and whispered, "Alohamora."

The door blew open instantly, making surprisingly little noise. I tiptoed to the doorway, peered down the hall, and deciding the coast was clear, ran for it.

When I got to Draco's room I manually unlocked the door and quickly slipped in, shutting the door quietly behind me.

"Potter," Draco drawled from the bed. "Glad to see you made it."

"Yea," I breathed as I quickly stretched a silencing charm over the door. Once it was securely in place, I turned to walk over to Draco, but stopped dead in my tracks.

Draco was in his bed lying on his back, sheets haphazardly strewn around his feet, wearing nothing but black silk pajama bottoms. I tried to hide and quell my obvious excitement, schooling my face into an "all-business" expression, but my eyes betrayed me. No matter how hard I tried, I could not pry them from Draco's glorious form.

He was perhaps the single most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. From his tousled hair that splayed elegantly on his pillow like a silver halo, to his pink, pouty lips that were always slightly parted as though brimming with a million unspoken words, he was perfect--_and that was only the neck up._

I allowed my eyes to venture lower, raking them indulgently over Draco's entire body; his sinewy arms, his strong shoulders, his slightly muscled chest and abdomen. Every part of him was porcelain and smooth and perfect. Even the mysterious, shimmering pink scars that adorned his chest added to his beauty.

"Please," Draco scoffed. "Could you wipe the drool from your chin and come over so we can get a plan going." He pushed himself up to a seated position and scooted to the head of the bed. "Have a seat," he said patting the area of mattress in front of him.

I obliged, sitting a little closer to him than necessary. If he noticed, he didn't bother saying anything.

"Okay," he began. "I have been studying the healers' schedules and it looks like our best chance of escaping is Tuesday night. There is a small window of time between 8:30 and 9:00 where Davis is the only staff member on duty. If we can create some sort of diversion to ensure he won't be able to hear the wandless magic detectors, busting out should be a piece of cake. It's just a matter of figuring out what we can do to distract him…Any ideas?"

"Umm…I'm sure I can get someone to occupy him for us." I replied easily, my eyes still shamelessly drinking every inch of the blonde god in front of me.

"You think someone would help us with this?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah…with a little persuasion."

"Going to have one of your minions help us in exchange for sexual favors in other words?" he asked, a knowing smirk plastered on his face.

"Pretty much," I replied with a wink. "I ask, I receive."

Draco rolled his eyes. "How very Slytherin of you...So tell me Potter, what's with this new found God complex?

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Please Potter. You used to be so _virtuous. _You were the wizarding world's _golden boy_," he said, his fingers making exaggerated air quotes. "Now you're kind of a jerk that obviously thinks the world should bow down before him."

_A jerk?! _I stood up and began pacing the length of his small room. _What the hell was going on?_ Things certainly weren't going the way I had hoped. I had hoped I would waltz in, get the busting-out business in order, and then spend the rest of my time both figuratively and literally charming the pants off of Draco.

I would have settled for some over-the-clothes groping, even just a little kiss, but suddenly it looked like my chance for either of those was quickly slipping between my fingers. I wanted to ignore what Draco was saying and work on winning him over, but my pride got the best of me. Instead I plopped back down on the bed, eyes blazing and my fists clenched at my sides.

"You're kidding!" I scoffed. "This is coming from _you_ of all people?"

"Yes, coming from me. I used to walk around with that same sense of entitlement, that same superiority complex. And look where it got me--nowhere. I have no real friends, no family and I'm locked up in a loony bin for crying out loud."

"You can't possibly be comparing _me _to _you. _I saved the world from the most evil wizard in the world while you and your daddy were busy licking the dirt from his feet!"

"You know nothing!" Draco yelled, a finger pointed in my face. "Nothing!" His face flushed a deep pink and for a moment, I thought he was going to strike out. But he stopped suddenly, leaning his head against the wall behind him. He breathed deeply, his pale chest rising and falling with slow, heavy aspirations.

After a few moments, he lifted his head again and looked at me.

"Potter, I'm just saying...You should cut the shit before you lose everything. And besides," he breathed, "arrogance isn't becoming of you."

I nodded my head slightly, unsure of how to respond, but just happy to know a fist fight wasn't in the cards for the night.

"Well I'm tired." Draco said as he stretched himself back out on the bed. "Go get some sleep. You have a long day of flirting and persuasion ahead of you."

"I'll let you know how it goes," I whispered over my shoulder as I got up and disappeared into the hallway.

But when I got safely back to my own room, I didn't go to sleep as Draco had suggested. Instead I laid in my bed, visions of a heated, half-naked Draco dancing through my head. His flushed face, his intense stare--Even when he was angry, he was incredibly sexy.

I closed my eyes and imagined him bringing that same passion and ferocity into the bedroom--more specifically, into my bedroom.

And when I wrapped my hand around my dick and stroked myself until I came, it was his name I cried out.

Silencing charms really were a godsend.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's a little short and a little dialogue-y, but I really had to do a chapter that enables me to move the plot along a little better. I swear that there is more action in the next chapter!**

**Anyways, pretty please review. Reviewers are the coolest, and don't you want to be the coolest?  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I would keep him in my pocket (he's really tiny, he would probably fit!)**

**Warning: If you cannot handle foul language, crazy people, or man-on-man action, you can't possibly have any fun in life! Don't read my story. However, if you cuss like a sailor, are a little crazy yourself, and have a predilection for gay boys like I do (ahem, Izzie), feel free to read on (and review of course)!**

**P.S.- Hey guys! Sorry for the slight hiatus. I have been working my tail off because not only am I working on this story, I am working on two others. I hope to start posting one by the end of this month or the beginning of April. I am super excited and hope that everyone will check them out when they're up. Anyways, Chapter Ten is almost done and should be up this weekend! Okay, on to Chapter Nine!  
**

* * *

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, the warm summer air swirling around me, the hot sun beating down on my face. It was the day after my meeting with Draco and to everyones surprise, the healers had planned an outing for us at Whimsey Park.

We had left in the late morning, traveling via side-along apparition to a forest just North of the park, and then hiked a trail down to the lake. The scenery was awe-inspiring; the forest was lush and green; the lake was a beautiful blue that glittered under the bright, cloudless sky. It was perfect and everyone seemed to enjoy the reprieve, no matter how short-lived it might be.

And although I too was happy to get away from the hospital, my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't stop thinking about the job that had been laid out before me. Getting Emerson to help Draco and I escape did not seem to be too daunting of a task, but somewhere, buried deep, deep down inside of me, I felt a tinge of guilt for using Emerson the way I had in the past, and the way I inevitably would in the future. He was a sweet kid and didn't deserve to be caught in the middle of my bullshit, but there I sat, plotting on using him again for my own selfish gain.

But even more than that, the one thing that I really couldn't get my mind off of was Draco. He commandeered my every thought. No matter what I was thinking about, one thing would lead to another and before I knew it, my mind would be filled with visions of smooth, ivory skin or soft, pouty lips.

Sometimes the visions would stop there, and I would just admire every inch of Draco's perfect form in the privacy of my own head. But more often than not, my imagination would get away from me and I would have visions of Draco kneeling before me, pleading to suck my dick, or bent over in front of me, his arse begging to be stuffed with my cock. Regardless, with an almost constant hard-on, it was beginning to feel like I was walking around with a loaded weapon; and I was aching for Draco to be the one to pull the trigger.

And sadly, after _just thinking_ about my visions of Draco, I could feel my cock start to stiffen and strain against the denim of my jeans. I stood up quickly, brushing blades of freshly cut grass from my bottom, and began walking towards the lake in an attempt to clear my mind and hopefully, calm my hormones.

My plan was thwarted however as I got closer to the lake and saw that at least a half-a-dozen of the residents were taking a dip in the water, Draco included. I kept walking, getting closer and closer to lake's edge, trying my hardest to remain cool, calm and collected. When I finally reached the shore, I took a seat on top of a shabby looking picnic table to ensure I had a good view of the action.

Typically, a bunch of wet, shirtless guys dancing around in the water would have been enough to turn me on; but the addition of Draco to the mix made my palms start to sweat and my heart start to beat erratically. Seeing him splash around in the water, his blonde locks slicked back, with beads of water sliding down his porcelain skin, his chest, his back; it made my cock harden instantly, almost to the point of discomfort

But I continued to watch him, afraid to miss anything the blonde beauty did. I watched as he raced other guys from one side of the lake to the other, and won almost every time. I watched as he show-boated about, doing flips and handstands, doing cannonballs off the dock. And I watched as he laughed and joked with the others, showing the fun, carefree side of himself I never got to see. If it was possible, he was even more beautiful when he was happy, and I found myself wishing he could be that happy, radiant guy around me.

And suddenly, a small pang began to swell inside of me, starting in my chest and radiating outward until every part of my body prickled with an unfamiliar vexation. _What is this_, I wondered. _Jealousy? Longing?_ It couldn't be. I wouldn't allow it to be. My goal was to fuck Draco and then leave him by the wayside--that was it. I didn't want to have feelings for him or have the nuisance of a relationship; that wasn't my style. I was a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. I wanted Draco to want me and to keep wanting me even after I was done with him, nothing more, nothing less. I couldn't lose sight of my goal.

But as I tried to push whatever I was feeling out of me, I looked up and noticed something peculiar. Draco had moved away from most of the group, to a secluded, quiet area of the lake--and he wasn't alone. He was with Emerson.

I narrowed my eyes angrily and watched as Draco talked to Emerson, his hands flailing animatedly as he inched closer to the boy. If only I had brought my Extendable Ear so I could hear what was being said. But even without the aid of my trusty tool, it wasn't hard to see where the conversation was going. Draco leaned in closer to Emerson, whispering in his ear, gently touching him every so often, caressing his shoulder, his arm. And it was clear Emerson was enjoying every second of it.

Every time Draco touched him, Emerson's face lit up like a Christmas tree. And after a few moments, Emerson began returning the sentiment, even getting bold enough to brush a stray strand of hair back from Draco's face. The flirting was evident, and very obviously mutual.

And before I knew it, the feeling from just moments before began bubbling up inside of me again. But this time, it was attacking me ten-fold. I could feel my body start to get hot and my blood start to boil as an intense, excruciating heat began coursing through my entire body. _Why is this happening? Get a hold of yourself Harry! _

But no matter what I said to myself, I couldn't suppress of the terrible feeling that was building up inside of me. It kept getting stronger and stronger, the flames burning higher and higher until they were searing and blistering my flesh, trying to blaze their way out of the confines of my body. They had to be released.

I hopped off of the picnic table and frantically began looking around for something to release the flames. But regardless of where I looked, I was coming up empty handed. I scoured the picnic area for discarded knives, forks, _spoons even_; I checked the shore by the lake for jagged looking stones or sharp sticks, but I couldn't find anything that would work.

I kept looking, running around like a chicken with my head cut off, searching desperately for something, anything to douse the flames that threatened to consume me. And just as I thought I was running out of places to look, I spotted a bon-fire pit near the edge of the forest we had hiked through.

I walked over quickly, trying my best not to draw attention to myself, and began sifting through the ashes and charred pieces of wood in the stone fire pit. The first several handfuls turned up nothing, but after searching for several moments, I could feel something rather large and sharp buried beneath the debris. I scooped aside the dirt as quickly as I could, reached down and pulled out a green jagged piece of glass, presumably from a broken bottle. It was perfect.

And with my weapon in hand, I ducked inside the dense forest, and took a seat on a small tree stump covered in thick, green moss. Tears began to stream down my face as I pushed the sleeve of my shirt up and searched for an unmarred spance of skin to cut. But the truth was, virtually no part of my left arm had been left untouched. Hundreds of horizontal lines ran up the inside of my arm from my elbow to my wrist, like a ladder comprised of far too many rungs.

I pushed the sleeve up on my other arm, admiring the blank canvas it provided. Then gripping the glass awkwardly in my left hand, I pressed a corner of it into my skin, until it broke the surface and blood began slowly spilling out. But the pain and the blood did nothing to calm me down. I pressed again and again until a neat row of puncture marks lined the lower part of my forearm, near my wrist. But still, I didn't feel better.

Tears continued to roll down my cheeks as I sat there, frustrated and ready to explode, until suddenly a light went off in my head. I gripped the glass tightly and began cutting my arm. The glass tore painfully into my flesh, leaving messy, ragged lacerations in its place, and simultaneously releasing the fiery torment from my body.

When I finished, I looked down at my work with admiration. It was beautiful--every jagged line, every piece of torn skin. It was a masterpiece, like Ghiberti himself had carved and sculpted my arm into an exquisite work of art. A smile played at the corners of my mouth and all the pain I had felt before was forgotten as I ran my fingers over the words that were now permanently etched into my skin--_Avada Kedavra_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When I finally dragged myself out of the forest, everyone was out of the water and had gathered into small groups and pairs at the picnic area. Instinctively I looked to see where Draco was and saw him deep in conversation with Adam, the lifer. But I kept my composure, held my head high and took a seat at an empty table off to the side.

"Hey," Draco said as he sauntered over and sat down across from me. "Where did you slip off to?"

"Just exploring," I replied, trying to keep my voice even and void of the absurd jealousy I felt.

"Oh...Well listen, I have good news."

"About?"

"About us getting out," he said dropping his voice to a whisper. "I took the liberty of buttering Emerson up a bit for you. I think he will go along with our plan with no problem. And who knows, you may not even need to fuck him." He winked playfully.

"Buttered him up how? What, did you give him a handjob under the water?"

"Please Potter, I don't feel compelled to use my body to get what I want. I just gushed and told him he seemed like a great guy and like he was really trustworthy."

"And that's all it took" I asked skeptically.

"Well....I may have flirted just a _tad._ And I may or may not have mentioned I had a sick aunt." He smiled a wickedly delicious smile.

I internally breathed a sigh of relief. Draco hadn't been flirting and chatting it up with Emerson because he wanted him; he was just laying the ground work for convincing Emerson to help us. Even in the crazy house he was the consummate Slytherin.

"Sick aunt, huh?" I smiled.

"Well, Bellatrix _is_ sick, just probably not the kind of sick he was thinking." Draco leaned forward resting his hands on the table near mine. "So tell me Potter, what are your plans after we bust out of here and go our separate ways?"

"Umm...Well," I stammered.

I was suddenly at a loss for words. What _was_ I going to do? I hadn't thought that far ahead yet. Where would I go? What would I do to survive? I had been so consumed with my quest to fuck Draco I hadn't really been thinking about breaking out at all. Sure we had planned our escape, but the only reason I had gotten that far was because planning allowed me to spend more time _with Draco._ He was the catalyst in it all. So what would I do once he was out of the picture? I hadn't given it a single thought.

"Um, not sure yet," I replied as coolly as possible. "Go wherever the wind takes me I guess."

"Harry," Draco hissed. "That is ridiculous!" My head swirled at his use of my first name. "You have to have some sort of plan. Everyone will be looking for you. Where are you going to go?"

"I guess I'll worry about that when the time comes."

"You can't be serious," he said as he reached out and grabbed my forearms. A small yelp escaped my lips as the pressure from his hands burned the fresh wound beneath my shirt. "What? What's wrong," Draco asked, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Nothing," I lied as I tried to pull my arms away, but Draco's grip was too tight.

"What did you do Potter?" he asked as he yanked up my sleeve. His eyes got wide as he looked at the writing that was carved into my forearm. I took advantage of his brief distraction, yanked my arm free, and pulled my sleeve back down.

"It's none of you business," I whispered.

"Harry," Draco started, his voice surprisingly uneasy. "Are you going to be okay when we are out of here? I mean, this isn't normal behavior. You're not going to…I don't know, have a breakdown or anything are you?"

"Ha, isn't that why I am already in here?"

"You know what I mean," he sighed. "Tell me you're not going to do anything stupid."

"What does it matter to you, Malfoy?" I spat, confusion overwhelming me.

That wasn't how Malfoys acted. Sure I had seen Draco be friendly to the residents and get along with them well, but deep down I always thought it was some sort of ploy. Maybe he was trying to act reformed so he could be discharged from the crazy house instead of having to escape. Maybe he was trying to undo some of the damage done to the Malfoy name by his parents. But I certainly never thought he was being genuine.

Yet there he sat in front of me, his brow furrowed, a look of worry painted across his angelic face.

"You're right," he breathed. "It shouldn't matter. It's your life, you can do with it as you see fit."

"I'll be fine," I said, not truly believing my own words.

I shifted nervously on the bench and began to absent-mindedly play with a loose thread on my shirt. The sudden silence was deafening. I looked up at Draco to try and say something to fill the awkward void, but no words would come out. Instead I just looked at him, watching as different emotions flitted across his perfect face. It looked like he was struggling internally with something, but what, I wasn't sure.

Perhaps he was thinking I shouldn't escape with him at all, that I was too crazy or too much of a liability. Or maybe he was thinking he would much rather escape with someone like Emerson, someone he would enjoy being on the run with. It was hard to know what he was thinking, but after a few moments of staring off in the distance, he seemed to make up his mind, and turned to face me again.

"Potter," he whispered as he leaned in closer to me. "If we're going to go through with this we have to make a deal, okay?"

"Uh, what kind of deal?" I asked leerily.

"Once we are out and safe, I want you to stay with me until you have a plan."

"I couldn't impose," I said, my cheeks turning pink.

"It's fine really, I already have a place lined up. You can just hang with me there until you figure out what you are going to do."

"I...I mean....why are you doing this?" I asked bewildered.

"Because, I have a bad feeling about you taking off with no plan and no place to go. I feel like you can't be trusted on you own and you might do something stupid. And besides," he said changing his voice to a slightly haughtier tone. "If you get caught, and with no plan you probably will, there is a good chance they will catch me too. And I can't afford that. So, do we have a deal Potter?"

Draco stuck his hand out in front of me, and I grabbed it, giving it an enthusiastic shake. "Deal."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As I slept that night, several dreams floated in and out of my head. And although they were all somewhat different, the main point of all of them was the same. In every one Draco and I were together. And no matter what we were doing in those dreams, be it having a quiet dinner, or snuggling up on the couch, or making passionate love, I was equally happy in all of them, for I was the luckiest guy in the world just having Draco by my side.

* * *

**A/N: I thought we were going to have a little slash in this chapter, but it ran a bit long, so now it got pushed into the next chapter (which will be up this weekend.) Sorry! But pretty, pretty please review anyway! Reviews make me the happiest girl in the world!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I'd like to. Do you think I could get him on the black market?**

**Warning: If you cannot handle crazy people, foul language or adorable gay boys, you probably shouldn't read this story. Go find some boring, hetero GW/HP fic. (Ha, although I can't mock it too much. I did find a kind of hot one on AFF one time.)**

**P.S.- This is unheard of for me! Updating twice within a four day period! I will probably be back to once a week after this though.**

**Oh, and just to let you guys know, I said in the description that this story is DH compliant minus the epilogue. But when I say that, I mean as far as all of the main plots go, it is DH compliant. I apologize in advance if there are any little discrepancies from the original story. There are 7 books man and it can get hard to keep every little detail straight! But anyways, I just wanted to warn you guys.**

**Okay, with that said, on to Chapter Ten.**

* * *

The next several days passed at an inconveniently quick pace. Before I knew it, the day of our escape had come and I still had yet to talk to Emerson about helping us. That's not to say that I hadn't tried.

Just the day prior I had entered the common room and was pleased to finally catch Emerson alone. Up until then, it seemed that no matter when I tried to talk to him, he was always in the middle of something or surrounded by other residents. So when I finally saw him by himself, sitting on the sofa in the common room, I too took a seat, casually resting my arm on his shoulder.

"How's it going?" I asked cheerfully.

"Not too bad," he answered with a smile. "Yourself?"

"Good, good. I was actually wondering if I could talk to you a moment."

"Sure," he said as he turned to face me. "What's up?"

"Well, I was actually hoping to talk to you someplace a little more private. My room maybe?"

Emerson smiled. "Sure."

I stood up and offered him my hand, which he gladly accepted, and pulled him off the couch, towards the hallway. We walked in an awkward silence, both of us cognisant on at least some level as to what was about to happen, even if Emerson didn't yet know the reason why. I smiled and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as we begin climbing the stairs.

"Em!" someone yelled from down the hallway. "Wait!"

_Who is interrupting me this time!?!_, my brain screamed. I turned to see who the source of the impediment was and was taken aback to see Draco.

"Em, I found my exploding snap cards," Draco breathed, his eyes darting between me and Emerson. "Ready to get your butt kicked?"

I tried to catch Draco's gaze so I could somehow signal him to leave us alone; let him know that he was interfering with "woo Emerson" time. But anytime my eyes caught his, he looked away, almost too quickly, like he wanted nothing to do with me.

"Well, I was going to hang out with Harry for a bit," Emerson replied uneasily.

"Oh come on...You can hang out with Potter anytime. And besides, you promised you'd play with me today. Please," Draco pleaded as he grabbed Emerson's free hand.

"Um, yeah, sure," Emerson aquiesced. "We can talk later, right Harry?" he asked as he pulled his hand out of mine.

"Of course you can," Draco said as he pulled Emerson back down the hall to the common room. I couldn't get him alone for the rest of the night.

And with my lack of luck getting Emerson alone, time was officially of the essence. There were only about eight hours before Draco and I were supposed to escape, so I quickly made my way down to the common room to look for the boy that still didn't know he was an integral part of our escape plan.

But when I got down there, Emerson wasn't around. In fact, no one really was, except for Draco. He was sitting on the couch, alone, watching some muggle cartoon that I didn't recognize. He heard my footsteps approaching and turned to look at me.

"Hey Harry, everything with Emerson set to go?" he asked.

"Not that I am aware of. I would have thought you would have already had him taken care of, what with all of the time you guys have been spending together," I retorted, my voice dripping with unexpected sarcasm.

"Geesh," he said holding his hands up in surrender. "What's with the hostility Potter?"

"Nothing," I said trying to even out my tone. "I just thought that since you guys had gotten so close that maybe you already talked to him about it."

"Gotten so close? What are you talking about?"

"Please," I said with a forced smile. "It's obvious you like him. I mean, with all the flirting the other day at the lake, all the time you spend with him here. Don't try denying it."

"You're crazy. I already told you I have been working on buttering him up for you," he said as he folded his arms. "I have been feeding him sob story after sob story in hopes that he'll take pity on me and help."

"Well do you know where he is now?" I asked, not believing a word he said.

"In his room. Have at it." He gestured down the hallway with his hands. "Go work your _Harry Potter magic_ and fuck him, or whatever it is that you do."

"Great. Thanks!" I did my best to give him a "fuck you" smile, but failed miserably. Instead I turned and walked down the hall, my heart heavy as all the pieces clicked in place.

Draco really did like Emerson. The incessant flirting, the way Draco wanted Emerson all to himself; he could claim it was all strictly business, but I knew in my heart that wasn't true. Draco was going above and beyond what was needed to "butter" Emerson up. He wanted Emerson, plain and simple, he just didn't want to admit it.

I tried to leave those thoughts behind however, when I reached Emerson's door. I rapped on it lightly a few times and waited for a response. When none came, I slowly turned the handle and slipped into the room, quietly shutting the door behind me.

"Mmm..." a muffled grunt filled the room. I turned at the sudden noise, my eyes nearly bulging out of my head as they came to rest on the scene before me. Emerson was sitting at the foot of his bed, staring out the window, his legs splayed open with someone, I couldn't see who, kneeling in front of him, their head bobbing up and down furiously. A gasp inadvertantly escaped my lips.

"Harry?" Emerson exclaimed. The unknown person quickly lept back, revealing himself. It was Adam, and he was stark naked. "Harry, what's going on?" Emerson asked.

"Um, I wanted to talk to you...but uh, I see you're busy. I'll come back later."

"No, no, it's okay," he said smiling. "Care to join?"

"What?" I looked at him in disbelief. Was he serious? He wanted a threesome? I looked up at Adam to gauge his response, but judging by the lust-filled look in his eyes and the way he continued to stroke his cock, he seemed to be okay with the idea.

"Uh, I think I'll just come back later." I turned to leave, but Emerson put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me down on the bed next to him.

"Stay, please," he said, his eyes pleading with mine. His new-found confidence was surprising, and I sat there shocked. I didn't say yes, I didn't say no.

Emerson leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to mine, his fingers finding my hair and threading themselves in it. And although the kiss felt good, I sat there unresponsive. Part of me ached to have two men servicing me at the same time, but the other part of me of was hesitant. It was like some unknown force was holding me back. I couldn't explain it. I mean, what gay or bi guy would turn down two willing men? I normally wouldn't, but I just didn't think I could go through with it.

I tried to gently push Emerson back so I could leave, but he continued to hold me tightly, his lips still pressed firmly against mine. Seeing that that didn't work, I opened my mouth to verbally protest, but no words came out as Emerson quickly seized the opportunity and shoved his tongue between my lips

At first I was able to keep my composure, and sat there, unmoving, trying to act as disinterested as possible. But as his tongue continued to dance with mine, my cock got harder and harder and inevitably I caved. _Why should I deny myself,_ I thought.

I began returning Emerson's kisses, our tongues eagerly fighting for dominance. My head began to tingle, my breath hitch. As the kisses intensified, I was so distracted that I didn't realize Adam had been fumbling with my zipper until a cool rush of air swept over my cock.

Every hair on body stood on end, but I continued to kiss Emerson with wreckless abandon, my lips moving from his mouth, to his jaw, to his throat. I sucked and nipped greedily at his pulse point as my fingers began making quick of his shirt. But just as I unfastened the first button, my breath caught in my throat when the cool air around my dick was replaced by the unmistakable dampness and warmth of a mouth.

Adam instantly went to work, his head bobbing up and down the entire length of my dick like he was a seasoned pro. Once I was able to adjust to the added sensation, I continued to work on Emerson's shirt, unfastening every button and then carelessly throwing it on the floor. Once the offending garment was gone, I continued kissing a trail down Emerson's neck, to his collar bone, to his chest, his nipple. But after teasing and nibbling it a moment, both Emerson and Adam pulled away from me.

Adam quickly crawled up on the bed, situating himself on all fours, his ass raised eagerly in the air, while Emerson positioned himself at the boy's entrance. And in one swift motion, he drove into Adam's waiting ass and began pumping, not even giving the boy a chance to get his bearings. I watched in awe as Emerson took control, grabbing Adam's hair for leverage as he pounded him harder and harder.

_Where the hell is this coming from?_ Emerson was fucking Adam like it was an everyday thing for him. There was no awkwardness, no naivete. When I was with Emerson he claimed he had never really done anything with another guy. So either he was a quick learner, or Draco and I weren't the only apt manipulators around.

"Harry. Why don't you fuck his mouth?" Emerson suggested easily, like he was recommending a good book. "Come on."

I readily obliged, climbing on the bed in front of Adam. Emerson released the boy's hair, allowing me to grip his locks and steady myself as my dick forced entry into Adam's mouth. He tightened his lips expertly around my cock, making thrusting difficult, but not impossible. The sensation it created was so phenomanal, so delicious, my head began to swim and my vision started blurring.

I knew I was close to coming. I looked up to gauge where the others were, and just as I did, Emerson plowed into Adam one last time, his face twisting and contorting as he filled the boy with his come. When he finished, he collapsed onto Adam's back, but continued to stroke the boys cock feverishly. And only seconds later, Adam too finished, squirting spurt after spurt of sticky liquid onto the bedsheets below.

That left only me.

I gripped Adam's hair tighter and began thrusting into his mouth as hard as I could. I drove faster and faster, my balls slapping wildly against the boys face. He took it like a pro and continued to do so as I slammed into him one last time, coating the back of his throat with my come.

When the last little bit emptied itself from body, I collapsed on the bed, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

"Adam, can I have a moment with Harry please?" Emerson purred with post-coital bliss.

Adam nodded, quickly threw on his clothes, and left the room.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Emerson asked rolling over to face me.

"Well," I began. "I wanted to see if you could help me with something."

"With what?"

"Well, we need someone to distract Davis tonight. You see, umm, Draco has a sick aunt, and he really needs to get out of here so he can take care of her."

"And you need someone to create a diversion so you can escape," he stated, knowing his assumption was correct.

"Right. And Draco and I both really trust you, so we thought you would be the best person to ask and..."

"No need to go an further," Emerson interrupted. "Whatever you need me to do."

"Really?" I asked amazed. It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it?

"Of course," Emerson said with a smile. "You're Harry Potter. Do people ever deny you?"

"You'd be surprised," I laughed.

I gave Emerson the rest of the details, what time we'd need the distraction, how long we would need it for, etc, and gave him a hug as I left the room. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted. Everything was in order and ready to go, I just had to find Draco to tell him the good news.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews make me want to write faster ; )**

**And P.S., my spell checker wasn't working so I apologize if there are errors. Once it is working again I will check the chapter and fix any errors. I just wanted to make sure I got this out ASAP :)  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter's sexy ass--but I wish I did.**

**Warning: If you cannot handle foul language or gay boys--in other words, fun stuff--get crack-a-lackin and leave this story already!**

**P.S- I feel like I am apologizing every chapter--but sorry I took so long getting this chapter out to you! To be honest, it's getting harder to stay on top of this story because it's very difficult for me to write it. I don't know why, but I just have a hard time writing in first person!**

**Anyway, only about five chapters left to this story kiddies! But watch for my others I will be posting soon!**

**Alright, here is Chapter Eleven!  
**

* * *

I scrambled about my room, checking under the bed and in the dresser drawers, crossing my T's and dotting my I's to make sure that I didn't leave anything of importance behind--assuming, of course, that I actually went anywhere.

Things had gone well with Emerson earlier in the day. In fact, things had gone _extremely _well. I was able to convince him, with little effort, to help Draco and I escape, and I was able to squeeze in a rather enjoyable threesome on top of it. Things couldn't have been going better--that is, until I saw Draco again.

The second I had left Emerson's room, I ran back out to the common room, hoping to find Draco there so I could share the good news. But the moment I laid eyes on him, sitting there alone, literally twiddling his thumbs, my heart sank. Guilt rooted inside my chest, tightening and constricting my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

_Guilt? What do I have to feel guilty for, _I thought._ Draco's going to be a one-time fuck--that's it--nothing more.  
_

I did my best to gain my composure and took a seat on the couch next to him.

"So Em's going to help," I smiled, still fighting off the tightness in my chest.

"Oh, good. And what, you only had to fuck two guys, right?" he asked pointedly.

"Uh, well..." I stammered. I tried to speak or at least laugh it off like it was a ridiculous joke, but the words were stuck in my throat. _How did he know?_

"What, wondering how I know?" Draco asked as if he could hear my thoughts. I swallowed thickly, but didn't respond. "Well, you were taking forever so I thought I would go talk to him with you," Draco explained, his voice devoid of emotion. "You know, see if I could lend a hand. Anyway, when I got there, the door was shut and there were some rather....well, _obscene_ noises coming from the other side. So I listened to see what was going on, and oh, what a shocker, I realized you were in there fucking Emerson."

"Well I," I started, but Draco cut me off. He continued rambling as if I hadn't uttered a word.

"And then to my surprise, Adam comes waltzing out of the room. Ha, fucking one guy just wasn't enough," he chuckled darkly. "I'll just have you know, my house will not become your brothel, Potter."

"Look," I said as I suddenly realized what all the drama was about. "I should have known, all of those longing looks and wayward glances. The way you flirt incessantly. I should have known that might...well, bother you."

"And you still did it? How very charming of you," Draco huffed. He stood up quickly and stormed out of the room.

After he left, I sat there a good five minutes, not moving. The confrontation had left me boggled. I had assumed Draco liked Emerson, but I didn't know he would be _that_ upset about me having a little fun with the boy. Apparently Draco was more infatuated with Emerson than I had thought. I just hoped that a small lapse in judgement on my part wouldn't leave him reconsidering our escape.

So hoping for the best, I decided to get my things together and pack my bag anyway. And after triple-checking to make sure that I had everything I needed, I hid the bag under my robe and went down the common room. When I was sure no one was looking, I tucked the bag behind the milk crates the t.v. sat on, the place Draco and I agreed would be the most convenient hiding spot, my heart sinking considerably when I saw Draco's bag wasn't there yet.

_He will come_, I thought to myself. _He has to._

I walked over to the window and took a seat on the cushioned ledge. Pulling my knees to my chest, I stared down at the street below. If things went as planned, in less than two hours I too would be a free man, just like the guy below that was sitting on the park bench playing his guitar, or the woman that was magicking her broom to sweep the sidewalk as she hung signs in her shop window. I too would be able to come and go as I pleased, hang out with whomever I chose. I, too, would be free.

I closed my eyes, resting my head against the cool glass panes, and pictured what my life could be like—what it would be like. I'd have my own little flat in London, in some trendy muggle neighborhood where nobody knew or cared who Harry Potter was. People would treat me normally, not like I was some sort of freak. I could get brunch with a neighbor or go to a pub with a friend without having to worry about them having some ulterior motive. I could go to the movies and not have to worry about some skeevy reporter from The Prophet snatching picture after picture of me simply buying a soda. It would be brilliant.

"No time for napping, Potter," a familiar drawl pulled me out of my wishful daydream. I opened my eyes to see Draco standing next to me. "Did you check to make sure you had everything you needed? You wouldn't want to leave anything behind because I don't know about you, but I don't plan on seeing this place ever again."

I couldn't help but look up at the beautiful blonde and smile. He was still planning on escaping, and more importantly, he was still planning on escaping with me.

"Yeah, I think I have all I need," I replied.

"Good. And Em's all set to go, right?"

"Yup, 8:30 sharp."

"Perfect, I will see you then." Draco produced an army green messenger bag from under his robes and tucked it carefully behind the milk crates before turning and disappearing down the hall.

I inhaled deeply, slowly pushing the air out of my lungs like a giant sigh of relief. Draco still planned on escaping, and he still intended to bring me with him. Everything was perfect.

XXXXXXX

Plopping down on my bed, I ran my fingers over the smooth wooden surface of my nightstand, allowing them to curl around the top drawer's cool metal handle. I carefully tugged the drawer open, taking one last look at the items inside, or more accurately, at one item in particular. I picked up the razor and turned it over in my hands, admiring the way the light glinted off it's smooth edges, making it look more like a gem than the unforgiving weapon it was.

I had debated as to whether or not I should bring my last razor with me. At first I had packed it in my bag, assuming the change in environment would lend itself to stressful situations that I might need help coping with. However, mere minutes later, I took it out again, placing it back in the confines of my nightstand drawer. I continued that song and dance for the rest of the evening, taking the razor out of the drawer five or six more times, only to replace it again a few moments later.

And in the end, I decided to leave it behind as a sort of symbol. Sure I had originally decided to escape with Draco for all the wrong reasons, hoping that going along with him would get me one step closer to getting into his pants. But at that point there was no turning back, so instead I chose to look at my escape as a second chance of sorts; a chance to start over and lead a somewhat productive life--and using a razor as a crutch certainly wasn't going to help me do that.

So again, I placed the razor down carefully and closed the nightstand drawer, shutting away the razor, and more importantly, shutting away that part of my life for good.

XXXXXXX

Draco and I sat on the common room couch exchanging nervous glances as the minute hand on the clock inched closer and closer to the six. Two minutes left, one minute left--then suddenly the clock struck half past, and I found myself straining my ears to hear what Emerson was doing; but there were no sounds.

Draco drummed his fingers nervously on his leg as the clock continued to move forward. 8:30, 8:31, 8:33. I too started to worry. What if Emerson changed his mind?

But just as I was internally chastising myself for not having a Plan B, blood-curdling screams broke out from the end of the hallway. Davis whipped by us, running at full speed towards the screams. And seconds later, just as we had suspected, everyone else made their way down the hall too. It was one time I was glad that no one there could mind their own business.

As soon as everyone was out of the room, Draco and I hopped up, retrieved our bags, and ran in the opposite direction towards Davis' office. When we got there we tried opening the door manually, but even in his hasty exit, Davis had remembered to lock it, which was expected.

I quickly held my hands out in front of me and concentrated, visualizing myself as a magnet and the magic as nothing more than pieces of metal I had to attract towards me. And after a moment, I could feel the magic start to swirl in the air and gather up in my hands, forming large shimmery balls. Once they appeared powerful enough, I put my hands together and threw the magic at the door as I whispered "Alohamora!"

The door clicked open and we darted inside, rummaging through Davis' cabinets for our wands. Drawer after drawer turned up nothing, until Draco opened a small cupboard near Davis' desk. There were ten or twenty wands inside, but Draco and I managed to find ours with no problem.

We tucked them into our robes and took off again, heading back towards the common room. The main entrance to the hospital was just outside of it, and that's where the apparition point was. If we could just make it there, we would be home free.

We slowed down as we approached the common room, trying not to draw attention to ourselves in case anyone was there. And it was a good thing we did, because to our surprise, most of the patients had started wandering back in, obviously not impressed by whatever fit Emerson had been throwing. But it didn't matter--as long as Davis was occupied we were safe.

We edged closer and closer to the front door. Just a little further and we would be free!

"What are you boys doing?" someone spoke sharply.

Draco and I both whipped around and froze dead in our tracks. Davis was standing in front of us, his arms folded across his chest, and his face reddened with anger.

"Answer me!" he yelled. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Uh, nowhere, sir," Draco whispered, his eyes cast downward.

"Good, now step away from the door please," Davis demanded as he stepped closer to us.

I looked up, worried he was going to jump us, and was surprised to see Emerson creeping up behind him. He tiptoed closer, his finger pressed to his lips to keep everyone silent. Then when he was directly behind Davis, he raised his hand and began counting down with his fingers; five, four, three, two...one!

On the last count Emerson jumped on Davis' back, wrapping his arms tightly around the healer's throat.

"Go Harry!" he yelled as Davis thrashed around, trying desperately to throw Emerson off.

I grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him towards the door, taking a second to yell "Thank you!" over my shoulder, before shoving into the entry doorway. Draco swiftly unsheathed his wand, linked his arm in mine, and shouted "7 Southwick Way!"

Darkness enveloped me and that familiar pulling and twisting sensation that could only be associated with apparating wreaked havoc on my body, making me nauseous. And just as I thought I was about to get sick, the movement suddenly stopped. I opened my eyes to find myself standing in a rather quaint, one-room flat.

Draco turned to look at me, his eyes almost crazed with excitement.

"We're out," he breathed. "I can't believe it, we're out!" He suddenly grabbed me and pulled me into him, his lips crashing down on mine with a ferocity I had never experienced before. And at first I just stood there in shock, allowing his lips to bruise mine as he kissed me savagely.

_It's happening_ I thought. _It's really happening!_

As soon as my brain wrapped itself around the situation, I began to return Draco's kisses. I pushed my mouth roughly against his, slamming his body up against the wall in the process--but that didn't stop him. He continued to kiss me, his mouth softening slightly as he began to nibble and suck on my lips, like he was trying to coerce them to open for him.

And it worked. I parted my lips, allowing him full access, and he plunged deeply into my mouth, his tongue finding mine with ease. And as our tongues swayed in unison, I decided to try to take things one step further. I leaned into Draco, pressing my rock-hard erection into his side and whispered "Want to take this to the bed?"

He looked up at me, lust-filled silver eyes locking with mine, and smiled.

* * *

**A/N: I know, kinda cruel part to leave off at. But pretty please review anyway! Reviews make me happy and make me want to write faster!**

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter--J.K. Rowling does. But thanks Jo for giving the world some hot-ass characters to write smutty stories about!**

**Warning: If you do not like foul language or man-action, you probably shouldn't read this. Or then again, maybe you should--you don't know what you're missing!**

**A/N: Long time, no see, huh? This story is coming to a close and I hate to say it, but with two other fun stories on the horizon, I'm having a hard time keeping on top of this one. I will finish it though and I will try my hardest not to rush through it.**

**Anyways, with that said, here is Chapter 12.  
**

* * *

Draco pulled away from me, his steely eyes boring into mine. The smile on his face was hard to read. Was it a sarcastic "you must be out of your mind" smile or a "I want to ravage every inch of your body kind of smile?" I really hoped for the latter.

Draco quirked his eyebrow, a come-hither look in his eye, then laced his fingers in mine and pulled me towards the bed. My heart began to beat faster, harder. I was about to get everything I had worked for and my heart was ready to pound right of out my chest with excitement.

We reached the bed and I tried to throw myself down on it, but Draco held me upright. "Not quite yet," he whispered. He trailed his hands over my shoulders, his fingertips quickly finding the buttons of my shirt and making quick work of them. I shrugged out of it obediently, the shirt falling at my feet in a rumpled heap.

My pants soon joined it and before I knew it, I was standing in front of Draco wearing nothing but my boxers and the silly smile that was plastered across my face.

Draco leaned in to me, his lips grazing my neck with feather-light touches. "Harry," he whispered. "Why are you doing this? Am I just another notch in your bedpost--another conquest?"

I cupped his chin in my hand, lifting it so his eyes met mine. He looked so fragile, so exposed.

"It's just that I really want this," he breathed. "But I'm not just some whore. I'm not going to be used." His eyes flitted down, ashamed of his vulnerability. It was almost...sweet.

"Draco, I want this too," I cooed. "And I don't just want you physically; I want every part of you." I internally rolled my eyes at my saccharin sweetness.

Draco, however, seemed to accept my answer, and leaned back in to me, kissing my neck, the column of my throat, to my chin, before hovering over my lips with a fiery look in his eyes.

And then something completely unexpected happened.

My head began to spin as he leaned in slowly and pressed his soft, pillowy lips against mine. Electricity coursed through my veins, jolting my with some unknown power I had never known before. It was like I was truly awake for the first time. It felt so magical, so amazing, so…right.

I kissed Draco back, my lips bruising his as I hastily began tearing the clothes from his body. I needed him, right then and there. When the offending garments were on the floor, I shoved him down on the bed and began kissing every inch of him. I wanted to memorize every spance of skin, every tuft of hair. I needed to know all of him, inside and out.

Just moments before, when I had told Draco I wanted every part of him, I had scoffed at myself, like it was some dirty, absurd thing to say. But I was realizing just how true it was. I was falling for Draco Malfoy, and if I tried to say otherwise, I would only be lying to myself.

I pulled back, taking a moment to catch my breath and admire the beautiful blonde beneath me—the way his eyes looked sleepy with passion, the way his pale skin had flushed pink.

"Everything okay?" he asked quietly. He twisted a lock of flaxen hair around his finger nervously.

"Everything is more than okay."

He smiled up at me beautifully and I couldn't restrain myself any longer. I took him in my arms and began kissing him with more fervor than ever before. I wanted to be with him, be _in_ him, be _a part_ of him.

Without breaking our kiss, I managed to pull off the last piece of clothing that stood in the way of me being with Draco. My cock sprang free of the offending fabric, pre-come already leaking from its swollen tip. It didn't remain uncovered for long though.

Draco quickly wrapped his hand around my shaft and began softly stroking up and down it's rigid length. I closed my eyes and reveled in the sensation. It was amazing. Every touch, every kiss, every moment we spent exploring each others' body was better than the last. It was magic. No charm or love potion could ever compare to the pure bliss I felt at that very moment.

And with each moan that escaped his lips, each shiver that ran through his body, I too became more and more aroused. And even though I never wanted the amazing feelings to end, I knew my body wouldn't be able to hold off much longer. My cock throbbed painfully, begging for release.

I reached for my wand and cast a quick lubrication charm, readying Draco's entrance for me. But the second the cool liquid hit him, he tensed.

"You okay?" I asked between ragged breaths.

"Harry...I uh...haven't done this before."

I looked at him confused. He hadn't done _this_ before. Even in school Draco had the reputation of being quite the philanderer. And reputations, even though they are frequently exaggerated, usually tend to come from some truth.

"What do you mean," I asked. "From what I understand, you had half of the people in Slytherin." My observation came off a litter harsher than intended.

"That's just it," he said, thankfully not seeming too bothered. "_I_ had sex with _them_--not the other way around."

"Oh." Draco had never bottomed. I sat back, defeated.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to." Draco whispered as he reached up and traced my jawline with his fingertips. "I want you Harry." He laid back down, assuming his previous position. "Please?"

A flood of emotions ran through me. He was so wonderful and so perfect...and he wanted me to be his first. I sat back up and leaned over him, showering his body with kisses. My heart began to flutter like that of a school girl's. I had to be gentle. I had to do things right.

I trailed my fingers down Draco's porcelain skin, his chest, his stomach, until they came to rest at his thighs. He inhaled deeply and nodded, ready to go further. I allowed my hand to descend lower, until my fingers were poised at his entrance.

Locking eyes with Draco, I pressed one finger inside of him and began slowly pumping in and out of his tight passage. After a moment, he relaxed and started pushing against my hand, his hips rocking each time I crossed the threshold.

Deciding he was ready, I inserted a second finger, giving him a moment to get used to the feeling before I commenced finger-fucking him. He winced in pain at first, but after three or four thrusts, he had found his rhythm again.

"Mmm....God Harry! Fuck me," he screamed as his hips bucked wildly against me. "Please!"

Those were exactly the words I had wanted to hear. I pulled my fingers out and quickly positioned myself back on top of him, my cock pressed firmly against his ass.

"Okay Draco," I breathed. "I want you to take a deep breath, and then on the count of three, exhale slowly. Got it?" He nodded and inhaled.

"One, two, three." In one swift motion, I pushed my cock into him, his tight entrance fighting me every step of the way. He whimpered quietly, the pain evident in his face. "It's okay baby," I whispered. "Just relax."

I stayed still for what felt like hours, allowing Draco to get his bearings following the sudden intrusion. After a few moments, he seemed to calm down some and the tension in his body began to melt away.

"Are you ready?" I asked. Again, he nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of worry and trust.

I reached down and gently began fisting his cock, trying to keep his mind occupied as I slowly began withdrawing my dick from him. The tactic appeared to work. He didn't seem to notice when I pulled out almost all the way, and he barely flinched when I pushed back inside of him. And after a few long, smooth strokes, I began picking up my pace, until I was fucking him with the same speed and cadence my hand had used earlier.

"Uhh Harry!" He bucked his hips wildly, his fingers digging into the sheets below as his breath began to hitch.

It was music to my ears--hearing the pleasure in his moans, the lust in his voice as he called my name. It gave me chills and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. And by the look of things, Draco wouldn't be able to either.

I began thrusting harder, faster, driving into him with as much momentum as I could. I wanted--no--needed to be as deep in him as I possibly could be. And as if he could read my mind, Draco propped himself up, giving me better access and allowing my dick to bottom out inside of him. He too began thrusting with me, impaling himself on me with such force I swore he would break in half.

But he kept thrusting and with one final scream, he came, ropes of sticky liquid spraying onto my hand and his abdomen. He looked up at me and smiled, and I too came, filling his ass to the brim with my seed.

I collapsed on top of him, out of breath and spent, and fell asleep with him in my arms.

XXXXXXXX

I sat lazily in Draco's large soaking tub, chest deep in foamy bubbles. It had been almost a week since we had escaped and things were going well—better than well, actually; things were amazing. Ever since our first night together, Draco and I had been spending every moment with each other. Granted, being two escapees on the run didn't leave us much of a choice, but even so, I was enjoying it.

And who wouldn't? I spent my days sleeping, eating and fucking one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen—what man wouldn't love that?

However, as the days wore on, nagging thoughts began plaguing my brain. They kept telling me that this was all supposed to be a game—that I'd better make a hasty exit before I got too deeply involved and found myself drowning in a sea of foolish emotions and nonsensical feelings. _After all, Harry Potter never has and never will fall in love_. People loved him, and that's where it ended.

However, that was all easier said than done. Every time those thoughts won out and I tried to leave, I couldn't do it. I kept getting sucked back in, like some magical force was holding me hostage. And although I tried to blame my inability to leave on a number of things; no home, not wanting to leave Draco alone, etc, I knew I was only lying to myself. Deep down I knew my inability to leave had nothing to do with any of those things and I cringed a little as I thought about what was truly keeping me there.

Reluctantly I pulled the plug in the bathtub and stood up, wrapping myself in a thick, soft towel. I padded towards the bathroom door but stopped short. I could hear Draco in the other room and it sounded as though he was talking to someone. _Shit! Did someone find us?_

I crept to the door and turned the handle slowly, pushing it open a crack. Relief washed over me as I saw Draco was in fact alone. He was sitting on the sofa in front of a radio, cuss words flying out of his mouth a mile a minute.

And although I was relieved no one else was there, I strained my ears to try to hear what could possibly be causing him such distress. That's when I heard it.

Draco was listening to a wizarding news station. A haughty sounding woman with a thick accent was giving a report about two individuals that had escaped from a mental institution. _Shit!_

_The escaped patients' names have now been released in hopes that the public will be able to assist in their safe return to Waverly Hills Psychiatric Hospital. The first patient, Draco Malfoy, is a former Death Eater that was just recently placed in the care of WaverlyHills after the Wizengamot found him guilty of murder, due to mental defect. Because of this, he is to be considered very dangerous and aurors are urging the public to call their local authorities immediately if they see_ _him. Under no circumstances should anyone attempt to make contact with him. The other escaped patient is none other than Harry Potter…_

I couldn't stand to hear anymore. I pushed the door shut and curled up in a ball on the cold tile floor below me. Everyone knew about our escape; everyone knew we were on the run. But those details were seemingly insignificant compared to the other whopper that had just been laid on me.

_Murder? Draco had murdered someone?_ I shook my head. It couldn't be right. If someone had told me that six months ago, I might have believed it—but not now. The Draco I knew put on a tough façade, but he was really gentle and caring once you got to know him. There was no way it was true, but I knew I had to ask him to be sure.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! Reviewers are the coolest people ever, and they keep me motivated to keep on writing this story.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, etc. If I did, they would be forced to make a Bri sandwich every single night :)**

**Warning: If you cannot handle foul language, crazy people, or gay boys, please go elsewhere. I haven't been flamed yet and I'd like to keep it that way!**

**A/N: Hey everyone! As I said before, this story is drawing to a close, but I still appreciate all of the feedback I have been getting, and hopefully will get for the last couple of chapters :) Reviews make my day!**

**Also, if you get a chance, please check out my new story _The Lines in the Mirror._ It's going to be a fun little ditty--or at least I think it will :)**

**And I just wanted to let you guys know, this chapter is short and I am sorry for that. I said everything in this chapter that I wanted to say though--I'm just not fluffing it out as much as I usually do.  
**

**Anyway, with all of that said, here is Chapter 13!  
**

* * *

I played the woman on the radio's words over and over again in my head .

_The first patient, Draco Malfoy, is a former Death Eater that was just recently placed in the care of Waverly Hills after the Wizengamot found him guilty of murder, due to mental defect. _

Murder? It couldn't be true. I pulled my knees to my chest, the cool bathroom tiles beneath me, and sat. I sat and thought about what I would do; I sat and thought about what I would say; but mostly I sat and thought about _why_. If what the woman had said was indeed true, _why_ did Draco kill someone? There had to have been good reason--self defense maybe? Saving someone else? The Draco I had come to know over the past weeks wouldn't kill someone in cold blood. He just wasn't capable of it.

A soft rapping on the door pulled me out of my daze and I wiped away a few stray tears I didn't know I had shed.

"Can I come in?" Draco asked quietly.

I cleared the lump in my throat. "Sure."

Draco walked in, his eyes rimmed red, his hair a mess. He looked at me a moment, his eyes locking with mine, and then quickly flitted them away, choosing instead to concentrate on the floor.

"You heard," he said flatly, not bothering to ask.

I nodded silently, those damn tears welling in the corners of my eyes again. But instead of sobbing and getting upset, I began to get mad. _Why was I allowing him to affect me like this?_ _Harry Potter sheds tears for no one, especially not Draco Malfoy._ The old familiar voice had returned.

It chastised me for being such a pussy--for allowing someone to get close to me. I had gone into this whole thing hoping to get a good shag, and that was it--period. And now that I had gotten that, I wasn't required to stick around for Draco's drama. Whatever he was involved in was his problem and his problem only.

I stood up, shrugging away from Draco when he tried to pull me into an embrace. "Get away from me," I spat.

Draco followed me to the other room, pleading me to listen to him, begging me to stay. I spun around, prepared to punch him if needed, or give him a good telling off at the very least...but I couldn't do either.

He looked so sad, so pitiful. His eyes were welling with tears, his lips quivering.

"Please Harry, give me a chance to explain," he begged.

_Don't listen to him! He's not your problem now. You got what you wanted from him—end of story._

**But you're lying to yourself if you say you don't have feelings for him. You care about him Harry!**

_Feelings? Harry Potter doesn't feel! He says and does whatever is necessary to lure in his prey!_

**That's a lie and you know it. You care about him.**

"Harry, Please!"

My head was swimming as the voices pulled me in different directions. I didn't know what to do, who to listen to. My mind was a big, jumbled mess and before I knew it, a familiar pressure began building inside of me. I began to get warm, sweat beading on my forehead, my body shaking as the pressure tried to force its way out of me.

**Look at him Harry. You love him.**

_Love is the filthiest four letter word there is!_

"If I could just explain…"

**Love is a beautiful thing!**

_Shit, fuck, cock, cunt....nope love is still the dirtiest. It's repulsive._

"Shut up," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. "Just shut up."

_Leave! Leave while you still can!_

"Please don't go Harry."

**Wipe away his tears—hug him—something. You love him and he needs you!**

_He doesn't need shit! You are only required to look after Number One--no one else!_

"Harry...Harry, can you hear me?"

My head swirled faster and faster making me even more dizzy and confused than I already was. I stumbled forward, my hands grabbing the kitchen counter at the last moment, saving myself from falling flat on my face.

_Go kid! Run!_

**You deserve love Harry.**

"Just shut up," I said louder.

But they wouldn't.

The voices kept yelling at me, screaming my name, telling me what to do. My body shook furiously as I tried to reign in my anger, make the pressure disappear. But no matter what I tried, what I told myself, the pressure kept increasing, kept expanding inside of me, crushing my organs and stretching my skin until it was ready to burst.

_Harry!  
_**Harry!  
**"Harry!"

"Shut up!" I screamed. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

And before I knew what I was doing, I reached my hand into the silverware drawer, grabbed a steak knife and began cutting away at my flesh—anything to end the voices—anything to release the painful pressure.

I jabbed the knife into my arm, pushing it in hard and then twisting and flicking it outwards so chunks of skin ripped off and fell to the floor. I did it over and over again, reveling in the sensation, until my arm looked like a bloody piece of raw meat.

But the pressure wasn't gone yet, so it didn't matter--I kept stabbing and cutting, streams of blood dripping down my arms, flowing from my wrists and pooling by my feet in vast crimson puddles.

The pain was excruciating, but I knew the end would justify the means. I would do anything to rid myself of those goddamn voices and that painful fucking pressure! Anything!

I raised the knife in my hand, prepared to plunge it into myself with as much force as I could muster, but suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around me and knocked the knife away. I squirmed and tried to wriggle free of my attacker's grip, but I couldn't. In fact, the more I tried, the sleepier I felt. My eyes began drooping, my head lolling unwilling from side to side. I struggled to stay awake, even trying to pry my eyes open with my bloody fingers, but the effort involved was too great. My arms fell limply to my sides.

And then everything went black.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

My eyes suddenly snapped open and I frantically began looking around, trying to figure out what had happened. Little flashes were coming back to me. I remembered the voices; I remembered the blood; I remembered Draco. Draco! Where the hell was Draco? I sat up panicking and looked around again.

A mix of relief and fear washed over me as I took in my surroundings. Draco was sitting curled up in a chair in the corner of the room and he looked untouched, unharmed. I inwardly rejoiced that he was safe and my heart sang about the fact that he was actually there. Some part of him did care about me--he could have just left my crazy ass in his apartment to die, but he didn't.

But any joy I felt was quickly overshadowed by the realization of where we were. We were in a hospital and that meant that, more than likely, we had been caught.

"Draco," I whispered, unsure of who was around.

His eyes fluttered open slowly and he looked over at me and smiled. I smiled too.

"Good morning sunshine," he said as he pulled his chair to my bedside. "I never thought you were going to wake up."

"What, how long was I out for?"

"Well you lost a lot of blood. And the healers had to do a lot of work to save you..." he trailed off.

I lifted his chin so his eyes met mine. "Draco, I'm fine now, right? Everything's okay." Physically, at least.

"It was so terrible Harry," he said throwing his head on my chest. "I kept trying to stop you but I couldn't. And when I finally did, you were losing so much blood. I tried doing some healing charms but they weren't enough. There was just so much blood."

Draco stopped, his chest heaving, his breath labored. He looked up at me, his eyes glistening with tears. I wrapped my arm around him, wincing slightly as sharp pains shot through my bandaged arm.

"So how long have I been out," I asked again.

"Two days. Two long, horrible days."

"Oh."

Draco replayed the whole thing to me, explaining how he tried several healing charms, but none of them had worked, so he had to make a decision. Did he bring me somewhere I could get help and risk getting caught or did he maybe call for help and disappear, hoping people got to me in time. He said it took him all of two seconds to decide.

"I didn't care if I got caught--I just knew I had to stay with you and make sure you were okay," he said softly. I brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

"Thank you Draco," I smiled. "So...now what? What happens to us?"

"They're taking both of us back tomorrow. With everything that happened, they thought it would be the best thing for you. And well, with me being an escaped criminal and all, I _have_ to go back," he sighed. "And Harry," he said hesitantly. "I wanted to talk to you about that--about why I was in there. I feel like you should know. Do you feel up to it?"

I nodded.

Draco began explaining to me about his parents, their estate, and how he ended up in the care of Umbridge. But then he stopped, swallowing thickly and closing his eyes.

"Draco, you don't have to go any further," I soothed. "I know what she did to you."

He looked up at me, his face riddled with surprise. "But...how?"

"It doesn't matter," I said, gently rubbing his back with my good arm. "She was a horrible goat of a woman and she should be shot for what she did....Oh." Realization hit me. Of course!

"Well there was one night she was being particularly horrible," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "And I managed to knock her wand away before she could cast any spells on me. And...and I don't know what came over me, but I just started hitting her. I hit her and hit her and hit her. She begged me to stop, but I just couldn't. I just kept hitting her until the screaming finally stopped. And then she just laid there, her eyes closed, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth. It was so horrible…I, I couldn't even look at it. I just turned around and started puking."

He leaned over on me, his head in my lap, and cried. His body shook a little with each choked sob that escaped his lips. "It's okay," I said rubbing small circles on his back. "It was self-defense Draco. Anyone else would have done the same thing."

He looked up at me and smiled. "Who would have thought?" he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, reduced to nothing but big, blubbering bags of crazy."

I smiled. "Yeah, who would have thought."

* * *

**A/N: Again, I know it was kind of short and not super fluffed out--Sorry :( But I would be super happy if you guys reviewed anyway! Reviews tickle me :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd make him dance around naked for me every single night.**

**Warning: If you cannot handle foul language, crazy boys, or those crazy boys getting it on, please go elsewhere. Those boys have a mind of their own, and if they enjoy swearing, doing crazy things and banging one another senseless, there's nothing I can do about it :)**

**P.S.- We are coming to the end folks! One more chapter after this one! Even though this story has gotten hard to write, I am sad to see it coming to an end. It's my like my first-born child! But please feel free to check out my second-born child _The Lines in the Mirror_. It's an HP/DM prostitution fic that I am hoping will be really fun.**

**P.S.S- Please don't laugh at my poor attempt at poetry--you'll see it later :)**

**Anyway, here is Chapter 14!**

* * *

_3 months later_

Draco cried out, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he dug his nails into my flesh. I could feel the blood begin to rush to the surface, escaping down my back in little crimson rivers. My head lolled forward, the mixture of pleasure and pain enough to bring me to the brink of explosion, but I held out.

I continued thrusting into Draco, harder and faster, my cock bottoming out each time it entered him. It felt so amazing, so wonderful; I never wanted the moment to end. But I knew it must, time was running out.

I reached my hand down and began stroking his cock in time with my thrusts. He groaned loudly and I could feel his body start to tense as he readied for release. And after just a few more strokes, he came, his body shaking as his come spurted all over his porcelain chest.

I followed soon after, unable to control myself with Draco tensing around me. And after I emptied every last drop of my come into the beautiful blonde, I collapsed on the bed next to him.

"You better go," I said. "Davis will be making rounds soon."

"I know," he huffed. "I can't wait until we don't have to sneak around like this anymore."

I brushed aside a stray lock of his hair and caressed his cheek with my fingers. "I know…me too."

Draco leaned in kissed my forehead, then got up and crept toward the door and out into the black hallway.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, knowing full well it would be a while before I could sleep because every time I was with Draco, a strange sort of adrenaline coursed through my body, leaving me with an indescribable high that lasted hours after he had left. There was just something about him.

Ever since getting thrown back in the crazy house, we were inseparable. Maybe it was the way he stuck by my side when I was in the hospital, the way he stood up to the orderlies when they tried to bring him back to Waverly before me, the way he held my hand or rubbed my back until I fell asleep, or maybe it was just all of those things combined.

But regardless, my short stint in the hospital showed me one thing very clearly; Draco really had changed. He was so sweet and so caring; I had just never realized it before.

And when we returned, it was like someone suddenly flipped a switch in my head. The dark part of me that thought of Draco as a conquest and nothing more, had disappeared. I wanted to be with him, spend time with him, and there were no ulterior motives sullying my intentions.

However, even though I was much happier in a lot of ways because of Draco, as a whole, I was still a mess. The urge to cut hadn't gone away, the horrible nightmares still plagued my dreams every night; In short, I wasn't getting any better. The only thing that had gotten better was my ability to fake that I was getting better.

Davis would clap me on the back and tell me how proud he was of me, how happy he was that I was finally "giving in to the process" and turning over a new leaf. I would smile and nod and tell him how much better I felt, and then I would retreat to my room and cut myself into oblivion.

It was a choreographed dance that only I knew all of the steps to, and I needed to keep it that way. No one could know what really went on inside of my head; no one could know what I really thought.

No one could know how I dreamed of bloodied bodies pulling me into the murky depths of death every night and how I woke, disappointed when I realized they hadn't. And no one could know of the beautiful visions I had—visions of me dancing through fields of razor wire and swimming through pools of deep crimson and shattered glass.

Admitting those things would be admitting I was crazy, and that was something I just couldn't do—not when I had a release hearing scheduled for later in the week. So I opted to stay in line and act normal. What's the muggle saying? "Fake it til you make it." That's exactly what I did. And that's also exactly what Draco did, as he too had a release hearing the same day as mine.

So we were ideal patients. We talked in group when it was time to share; we took our meds with no fuss; we made our beds and kept our rooms tidy. We did everything we were supposed to do, not placing a toe out of line, the only exception being when our carnal instincts became too strong to handle on our own. But when that happened, we managed to do it discreetly, usually meeting in my room in the middle of the night to 'take care of business.'

And although the secret meetings were enough to sate our urges for the time being, the quick fix usually just left us wanting more of each other. We knew we couldn't act on every urge though, because if we got caught, all of our hard work would have been for naught. But if we kept in line and kept our noses clean, in just a few short days we would be out, free to fuck whenever we wanted—and that was definitely worth holding out for.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I woke early the day of my release hearing, the butterflies flitting around my stomach not allowing me to sleep past 6am. I rolled out of bed and headed to the shower, thankful no one else was there yet.

I turned on the water, allowing it to heat until steam clouded the room, and then stepped in. The scorching water hurt my skin and it instantly began turning a deep red, but I didn't mind. I let the spray wash over me, burn my body and melt away the dirty feeling I could never seem to rid myself of, wash away the blood that permanently stained my hands.

My release hearing was just a few hours away, but did I really deserve it? Countless people were dead because of me—because I didn't act quickly enough, because being my friend put them in harm's way. I deserved to be locked up, holed away from the rest of society so no one else would die at the hands of the great Harry Potter. I deserved to rot.

But even though part of me felt like I didn't deserve release, the other part of me wanted nothing more than to be set free with my beautiful Slytherin by my side, for he was the only thing keeping me from going over the edge. With him by my side, the darkness wasn't able to consume me; I could tread water, keep my head above the black oblivion instead of letting it swallow me whole.

Life seemed to have more purpose with him around. And as long as we were together, it felt like one day things might be right in the world again.

XXXXXXXXX

I sat at the rickety desk in my room, mulling words over in my head. No matter what I wrote down, nothing seemed to work, nothing seemed to sound right. I inwardly cursed Davis for giving me such a pointless assignment.

At our last therapy session, Davis told me he wanted me to write something that expressed how I felt before being thrown in the loony bin (maybe those weren't his exact words) and how I felt now that my "journey was coming to an end"—and he wanted me to read it at the hearing.

He claimed that part of my problem before was that I didn't know how to express myself; that's supposedly why I cut, that's why all those horrible feelings had built up inside of me.

And apparently, expressing all of my feelings on paper would somehow show them that I was cured. It was my final exam, and if they liked what they heard, I was home free.

I looked up at the clock. There were two hours left before the hearing. I wracked my brain and quickly begin scribbling down whatever words I could on the parchment in front of me. I wrote down exactly what I thought they wanted to hear.

There was no mention of the fact that I still craved the razor blade's kiss; no mention of wanting to be consumed by the never-ending blackness. None of that—just happy, hopeful words that I prayed were good enough to let me graduate from one perpetual hell, to the perpetual hell known as the real world. At least Draco and I could be together in the latter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

I spent the last hour or so before my hearing with Draco. We sat on the couch in the common room, our fingers laced together, and talked. And although it was something we did a million times before, it felt strange. I knew these hearings meant we would be together soon, but I couldn't help but feel like we were saying goodbye to one another. There was an odd tension around us and I had a horrible lump in my throat that just wouldn't go away.

"It's just nerves," Draco said. "Everything is going to be fine."

"I know," I said nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. "I know."

"Harry Potter," Davis called loudly. "You're up."

I stood up, gave Draco a chaste kiss on the lips, and followed Davis down the hall.

When we reached the conference room, I took a seat at the end of the table and looked around, completely overwhelmed. There were eight other people in the room, most of whom I didn't recognize, with the exceptions of Davis and Wadsworth.

"Good afternoon Harry. I am Reginald Baker," a portly, balding man on the end said. "I will be overseeing your hearing today."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said, trying my best to keep my voice even.

"Likewise," he beamed. "Now just to give you a rundown of our process, we will start by speaking to your healers. We want to hear about what progress you have made and any recommendations they may have for you. Then we will just ask you a few simple questions and then you are free to leave. We'll deliberate a few minutes and then call you back in once we have decided the best course of action for you. Easy enough, right?"

"Sounds good," I said forcing a smile.

"Great, lets get started."

Reginald began asking Davis and Wadsworth questions about my behavior when I first arrived at Waverly. Were there behavioral issues? Was I open to the process? He then asked them questions about my progress. Did I show consistent improvement? Did I interact well with the other patients? Did they feel I was in recovery?

And much to my surprise, Davis and Wadsworth had good things to say about me. They told Mr. Baker I had some problems adjusting in the beginning, but that I had become a model patient. There was no mention of my trysts with the other patients (or with Davis), no real mention of me escaping; everything they said was positive.

"We couldn't be more pleased with his progress," Wadsworth summed up. "And we feel he is ready to be released."

"Great," Mr. Baker smiled. "Now Harry, how do you feel about leaving Waverly?"

"Umm…Excited I guess. I think I am ready for it."

"Good, good." Mr. Baker said leaning back in his chair. "Now I understand Davis requested you write something for us. Do you mind reading it?"

"Um…well," I stammered nervously. "It's kind of stupid. I just sort of wrote a poem about my time here."

"I'm sure it's not stupid," he laughed. "Now please, go ahead."

I cleared my throat, my mind racing a hundred miles a minute. Holding the parchment in my trembling hands, I began:

_Tainting the world with a cyanide touch,  
Ruin left in fingertip wakes.  
It's not your fault, they lie.  
The voices disagree.  
They know the truth._

_Waves crash over, enveloping.  
Icy hands pulling further down.  
The sky's a pin-prick  
In a deep sea of azure,  
Forever out of reach._

_Succumbing to the dark,  
To the frigid, lonely deep.  
Treading water  
Takes work, Sinking  
Does not._

_But the icy hands release.  
Warmth reaches down,  
Wrapping her arms  
around the hopeless.  
Pulling him to the surface._

_And when the surface breaks,  
the light is back.  
Blurry through wet eyes  
And water-logged brains,  
But it's there._

_And laying on sandy grains of hope,  
The sun shines on frigid skin,  
Warming away signs  
Of the drowning deep.  
And you know everything will be okay._

I looked up anxiously, praying that they bought that load of shit.

"Harry, that was very nice," Mr. Baker said. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have some things to discuss."

I stood up and left the room, shutting the door carefully behind me, leaving my fate in the hands of the healers, some strangers, and a balding, old, fat man.

* * *

**A/N: ****You know what would make me super happy? Getting loads of reviews for this chapter! It's almost the last one!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I had eye sex with him. That's gotta count for something, right?**

**Warning: If you do not like crazy people and gay boys, do not read this :)**

**P.S.- This is it guys....the last chapter! I am so sorry it has taken forever. I still do not have my computer back and it's really cramping my style man! But anyway, I wish I was able to edit this chapter more, make it sound a little better, but the computer I am currently using is the biggest POS I have ever seen in my life. I would type about three or four lines and then the cursor would decide to skip around and I'd end up typing like five sentences at the top of the page instead of the bottom. Grr...it was getting so frustrating. So instead of waiting to get my computer fixed and writing a better chapter, I decided to write a perhaps not as good chapter now, so I could get it to you guys two weeks sooner. Hope you understand!**

**Anyway, here it is, Chapter Fifteen, the final installment! Oh---and pretty please no flames if you don't like how it ends :)**

* * *

Tick...tock...tick...tock. I looked at the ridiculous cat clock on the wall for the millionth time, only to discover that just a minute and a half had passed since I had last looked. Why does time always drag its feet when you want it, more than anything, to kick in to high gear?

Draco gave my hand an affectionate squeeze. He was just as impatient about it as I was, but he was trying his hardest to remain calm, to be my rock, even though his fate was just as uncertain as mine.

A door clicked open and I jumped up anxiously.

"Harry," Davis said from the hallway. "We are ready for you."

I took a deep breath, kissed Draco's hand, and followed the doctor down the hall and back into the room, taking my previous seat at the end of the table.

Everyone looked up at me; some offered a small smile, while others quickly looked away and began rifling through papers in front of them. The varied reactions made the vibe hard to read. Did they think I was capable of entering the world on my own? Were those smiles of reassurance? Or did they think I was a complete loony that should be locked away for the rest of my natural life? It was hard to tell.

Mr. Baker broke the silence. "Well," he said, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. "Mr. Potter, I am pleased to say, you are a free man."

Tears unwillingly began to well in my eyes and I reached up to catch them before they fell to my cheeks.

Free? I was actually free? I couldn't believe it. It took everything in my power to contain my excitement. I wanted to jump up and dance, sing hallelujah at the top of my lungs. I felt invincible. Everything was working out just the way I had hoped it would.

"Your official release date will be tomorrow, July 10th," Mr. Baker continued. "You'll have to do a brief exit interview, fill out a little paperwork, and then you'll be good to go."

"Oh, that is amazing," I gushed. "Thank you guys so much. You don't know know how much this means to me!"

"Well you are very welcome Mr Potter. But you have earned it. Your hard work and good behavior is what got you out of here, not just us."

I grinned happily, my smile stretching ear to ear. My plan had worked.

"I will say though," Mr. Baker started again. "We do have some guidelines and some...recommendations for you when you are on your own."

I nodded. "Of course, anything."

"Good. Well first off, for the first three months that you are out of here, we have arranged for you to meet with a therapist once a week. He will monitor your progress; make sure you are adjusting to being on your own again--that sort of thing. It's just a casual thing, but it _is _mandatory. If you fail to meet with your therapist on two occasions, you'll be on your way back here before you can say 'but I was out of floo powder.' Got it?"

"Got it," I agreed.

"Now, there's just one other thing," he said hesitantly. "It's nothing that can be enforced, obviously, so it's really more of a suggestion. We feel that you should...well...use a bit more discretion when it comes to who you choose to associate with. Like Mr. Malfoy for instance. We don't believe he is a positive influence in your life."

"What?" I scoffed. They thought that Draco was a bad influence on _me_? It was more like the other way around!

"Well again," the man said, clearly frustrated. "It's nothing we can really enforce. Just let it be known that associating with him is not conducive to your recovery, Harry. And we only have your best interest in mind."

"I understand," I said, smiling and nodding. "I will certainly take your words into consideration." I would say just about anything to get out of that room.

"That's all I can ask then. Thank you Harry," he said standing up and reaching for my hand. "It has been a pleasure meeting you. You are free to go."

"Likewise," I beamed. "Thank you."

I bolted out of the room as quickly as I could, and nearly tackled Draco, who was busy wearing a path in the common room floor.

"I'm free!" I yelled, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. "In less than 24 hours we get to leave this hell hole forever!"

"Hopefully," Draco said cautiously. "We still have to see what they say about me."

"Trust me, if they are letting me out, they are letting you out!"

"Mr. Malfoy," Davis interrupted. "You're next."

The doctor gestured Draco inside the conference room, but instead of following him in, Davis lagged behind and turned to me.

"I just wanted to congratulate you," Davis said smiling. "We are going to miss you."

"Thanks," I replied. "I'm going to miss everyone here too."

Davis leaned in and gave me a quick hug before disappearing into the conference room, and shutting the door behind him.

A small pang of sadness twisted inside my stomach. I really would miss everyone there--Davis, Wadsworth and Emerson especially. They all played a role in the saddest, most depressing chapter of my life, bringing love and hope, and even some comedic relief to an otherwise melancholy plot. They were there for me when I wasn't even there for myself.

But it was time to close that chapter of my life. I had other, more exciting chapters to look forward to--chapters in which Draco was the star. And once I could rid myself of the horrible feelings and sadness that overwhelmed me, I knew that we would be able to live happily ever after. But before all of that could happen, we had some things to get in order, like our living situation. After being thrown back in to Waverly, Draco was forced to give up his flat, so once we were released, we had nowhere to go.

But I had planned ahead...somewhat. The moment I heard that there was a chance Draco and I could be released, I had called Hermione. She was the only person I knew with a phone (the only way we were allowed to communicate at Waverly) and she was the only person I was sure would be ready to forgive me.

And lucky for me, she was. The moment I said 'hello' she began bawling her eyes out.

"Oh, Harry!" she squealed. "We have missed you so much!"

I apologized over and over, but she would hear nothing of it.

"Harry, you were sick," she reasoned. "You didn't know what you were doing, what you were saying. We all know that."

"But 'Mione."

"But nothing," she interrupted. "We forgive you...all of us."

I had a feeling Ron hadn't forgiven me quite as easily as she had, but I was thankful for her kind words. And I was even more thankful when I told her about my impending release and she offered hers and Ron's spare bedroom without a second thought.

I thanked her profusely and told her I would call as soon as I knew what was going on. But that was all that was said. Nothing was mentioned about Draco; nothing mentioned about how we had escaped together; and I certainly never asked if they had room in their house for him as well. It had been the first time Hermione and I had spoken in over a year, and I was too nervous to test those waters. My friends, as far as I knew, had no idea I was even gay, let alone that I had chosen to be with Draco Malfoy.

But with my release being less than twenty-four hours away, I had no choice but to broach the subject. After all, I wasn't leaving Waverly without Draco by my side.

I skipped down the empty hallway, still unable to contain my happiness despite the nerve-wracking task ahead of me. When I reached the desk, I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw that the younger of the two receptionists, Cambria, was working.

Although I had changed my whorish ways, I still wasn't above flirting once in a while to get what I wanted. And thankfully, with a wink and a smile, Cambria was putty in my hands.

"Hey Cam," I said as I skipped over to the desk.

"Hey Harry," she smiled. "I heard the good news."

"Really? It's exciting, isn't? There is one thing I am upset about though."

"What's that," she asked, her face flushing a light shade of pink.

"I'll miss you," I pouted.

"That's sweet, Harry."

"I will," I said leaning over the counter.

We continued the meaningless banter for a while, shamelessly flirting with one another as she twirled locks of strawberry hair around her fingers and batted her thick lashes. Putty.

After I felt I had worked her enough, I asked her in the sweetest voice possible if I could just use the phone for a moment. And as usual, she hesitated, saying Davis would be upset with her, it was against policy, blah, blah, blah.

I reached down and grabbed her hand, locking my eyes with hers.

"Please," I whispered. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"Fine," she huffed playfully. "Just a couple of minutes though."

She set the phone up on the counter and went back to whatever she had been previously doing, and I lifted the receiver to call Hermione. I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the numbered buttons. I wasn't ready to make the call, but had little choice, so I punched the numbers in the keypad and listened nervously as the phone began ringing.

"Hello," someone all but yelled into the phone. "H-hello!" It was Ron.

"Hey Ron...It's Harry."

"Oh, hey," he said, his voice still raised.

"Ron...you don't have to yell into telephones," I laughed. "You can talk a normal volume and I'll hear you."

"Right, right," He said lowering his voice. "So what's up?"

"Well, uh, I wanted to see if I could talk to Hermione."

"Not here man. What's going on?"

I swallowed thickly, my heart dropping to my stomach. I had been somewhat prepared to discuss things with Hermione, but I certainly wasn't prepared to talk to Ron. He was a good guy, but he was a bit of a hot head, and I knew some part of him harbored resentment for me after the way I had treated him and Hermione. So things were strained as it was, I couldn't imagine how he would react to me telling him I was dating Draco Malfoy, then following it up with 'so can he come stay with you too.'

But with the time that was left, that was how the conversation had to go.

"Well, I get out tomorrow."

"Really...ya...Hermione said you were gonna stay with us a bit when you got out. Need me to pick you up?"

"Um...that would be great," I replied. "But um...well...there was something else I need to talk to you about."

"What is it?"

I took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Well, you guys are being so wonderful to me and I feel like a big jerk asking anymore favors of you. But...well...I have a friend getting out the same day as me and he doesn't really have anywhere to go either."

"Well we only have the one extra bed Harry..." he said hesitantly.

"I know...but umm...sharing it's not a problem."

"Ha," he laughed. "He must be some good friend."

"Well, that's the thing...he's sort of...more than a friend."

The other end of the line went silent. I waited, praying Ron would say something, anything, but he didn't.

"He's my boyfriend," I said, defeated.

There was another good thirty seconds of silence and I sat there, trying to imagine what he could be thinking. Was he shocked? Was he disgusted? Was he mad that I had kept it from him?

"What's his name?" Ron finally said.

_Rip the bandage off quickly_, I thought to myself. The sooner I said it, the sooner it would be out in the open and, hopefully, the sooner Ron would be able to come to grips with it.

"It's Draco Malfoy," I said, letting out a sharp breath.

"Ha, funny," Ron chuckled.

"I'm serious," I said. "It's Draco, and I'm in love with him." I knew Ron wouldn't take the news well, but I wasn't at all prepared for just how badly he _would_ take it.

"Are your serious?!?! You are out of your mother-fucking mind if you think I will allow that piece of shit slime ball inside my house! He is a worthless prat and if you are really involved with him, well then you are just as worthless as he is. I told 'Mione you hadn't changed...that you were only apologizing because you had some sort of agenda...that you were the same asshole you were before."

"But Ron!"

"But nothing. As long as you as you associate with that dickhead, don't so much as call here again!"

The phone hung up in my ear and I could feel tears start to stream down my face. I turned and ran, despite Cambria's confused look, back down the hall to the common room and took a seat on the couch. If Ron and Hermione wouldn't be supportive, then Draco and I would just have to get by on our own.

I drummed my fingers nervously. Draco had been in the conference room for at least a half an hour. And as far as I knew, they hadn't sent him out of the room yet so they could deliberate. _How much longer were they going to be?_

Then finally, after another ten minutes of anxiety-ridden waiting, the door clicked open, and Draco came out. I ran to his side and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"So when do you leave?" I asked beaming.

I lifted his chin so I could look into his eyes, and my heart immediately sank. His eyes were rimmed red and tracks of dried tears littered his face.

"Draco?"

He didn't respond. Instead he looked down and started to cry, his body shaking with each labored sob. "Come with me," I said as I pulled him down the hallway and up the stairs to my bedroom. I shut the door behind us and led him over to my bed to sit.

"They're not letting me out," Draco cried into my shoulder. "Not for at least another year!"

"What?" I yelled. "They can't do that! Why are they doing this?!?!"

"They said I'm manipulative and can't be trusted," he said wiping away tears. "I don't understand why they would say that!"

Then suddenly a light went off in my head. Mr. Baker's warning, the committee's decision to keep Draco locked up--even Ron's tirade; everyone was against us. Everyone wanted to keep Draco and I apart.

My head began spinning and my stomach began to lurch, and within no time, that familiar pressure began building inside of me, stronger than it ever had been before. My veins throbbed painfully as waves of pressure began crushing me from the inside out. I could hardly breath, hardly move. Every bit of my body hurt as my skin threatened to rip wide open.

"That's it," I said. "Draco, don't you understand? They're trying to keep us apart!"

Draco stared up at me as if I had grown three heads. "Harry...are you okay?" he asked.

'No, I'm not okay!!! How can I be okay? They're doing this to keep us apart Draco! Can't you see that?" I grabbed his hands and held them. "Draco, it's obvious that's what they're doing."

"I don't know Harry. I mean, they can't do that, can they?"

"They can do whatever the fuck they want to," I raged. I stood up and began pacing the room. I should have seen it coming; I should have known what they were up to when Baker gave me that "recommendation" speech. Their goal was to keep Draco and I apart, but I wouldn't go down without a fight.

"So what are we going to do?" I asked.

"What do you mean," Draco asked. "There isn't anything we can do. We can't escape. They're watching us like hawks now."

It was true. They had amped up security after we escaped the first time. The apparition point was no longer inside of the building, but was close to a hundred yards away, across the street from the hospital. They also had increased the staff, always having at least four people on duty. There were new alarms, new detection charms--everything they could possibly do to make sure no one was able to escape again.

But we had to try to escape; what other options did we have? I said I wasn't leaving that place without Draco by my side, and I meant it with every ounce of my being.

I sat back down on the bed and tried to brainstorm. _How could we get out? _But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't think of anything. My head was throbbing too hard, my body felt like it was ready to explode; I wanted nothing more than to reach into my nightstand and cut the pain away; release the horrifying pressure that threatened to cripple me. Then it hit me.

"That's it!" I said standing up again. "That's it Draco!"

"What?" he asked, a nervous look on his face.

"Draco, they're never going to let us be together! Never! They think they're in control but they're not! We are in control. Don't you understand, we can be the ones in control!"

"Harry, you're freaking me out."

"Draco," I said reaching into the nightstand drawer. "Let's not give them the satisfaction." I pulled the razor out. 'We can end this!"

"Harry, no...don't be foolish. You can wait for me. We can be together in a year. It's not that long to wait"

"You don't get it," I screamed, exasperated. "They'll never let us be together!"

Suddenly, the pressure became unbearable. It coursed through my body, burning my insides. My veins were filled with a white-hot magma that melted everything in it's path. I had to get rid of it; I had to release the poison once and for all.

I held the razor tightly in my hand and placed it on my wrist.

"Harry, no! Dont' be stupid!" Draco yelled as he tried to pull my hand away. I easily shook him off and knocked him to the floor.

"I'm going regardless," I said. "I just really hope that you'll come with me, Draco. I love you and I want us to be together."

I pushed the razor against my skin and dragged it across my wrist in one swift motion. The blood instantly rose to the surface in a beautiful river of red--but it wasn't enough. I sliced again, vertically this time, forming a strange sort of macabre cross on my arm. The blood started pooling more quickly, so I grabbed the razor in my other hand, making the same sort of rood on my other arm. Then I calmly sat on the bed, allowing the blood to drip on either side of me.

"Harry!" Draco yelled throwing himself at my knees. "What have you done!"

"It's the only way Draco," I said sleepily. "Come with me."

Draco began crying. He lifted my wrist to his lips and pressed them gently against the ensanguined wounds. He looked up at me and nodded and then took the razor from my hand.

He stood up and gently laid me down, licking the crimson from his bloodied mouth, and crawled in bed behind me. Then suddenly, he jabbed the razor deep into his wrist and pulled the razor slowly across.

The blood instantly began spurting out. The wound was much deeper than mine, and in no time the comforter was soaked with puddles of his blood. In fact, his cut was so proficiently done, the one wrist would have probably been enough to pull him into the eternal sleep. But never doing anything half-assed, he reached over and cut the other wrist, slicing it almost as deeply as the first.

"I love you," he said wrapping his bloody arms my waist.

"I love you too," I said, drowsiness overcoming me.

The pressure slowly ebbed away, leaving my body along with blood that was seeping out of my wrists. And just like that, the pain was gone.

I closed my eyes, visions of Draco and I dancing behind my eyelids, and fell fast asleep--the pressure never to return again.

* * *

**A/N: Again, this would have been better if I had a _real_ computer to work on, but I don't (not for 2 more weeks!) Anyway, thanks for reading--don't hate me for the ending! Please review --nice reviews :) -- and please scope out my other (I think better) story, _Picking up the Pieces_ if you haven't already.**


	16. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...only in my dreams.**

**Warning: You should know the drill by now :)**

**P.S.- Hello again! So after a couple of people suggested it, I decided to do an epilogue. And I'm glad, I think it's a good idea to kind of show the aftermath of their deaths--show how everyone is coping.**

**I did my best to get it done ASAP because in less than 12 hours I will be cut open on an operating table (boo!) I didn't know how long I'll be incapacitated, so I wanted to get it out to you guys before you forgot about me!**

**So anyway, thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing--I have really appreciated it. And here, without further adieu, is the epilogue to Picking Up the Pieces!!**

* * *

The quiet walk down the upstairs hallway chilled Emerson to the bone, but he couldn't quite figure out why. It wasn't as though it was the middle of the night; it was early afternoon and the sun was shining clearly through the unshrouded windows. There were no shadow people dancing and flickering on the walls with outstretched fingers, waiting to pull him into the darkness; there was no sense of urgency brought on by being out his bed without permission; no worry that a simple creaking floorboard could cause all hell to break loose. He had nothing to worry about, so why did he feel so tense?

Then it suddenly hit him. It was quiet--_too_ quiet.

If Emerson had learned anything throughout his long stay at the loony bin, it was that it was rarely quiet there. Someone was always screaming; televisions were always turned up too loud; people were always off in a random corner talking to themselves or another crazy; there was always noise.

But as he crept down the long hallway to find Harry, it was so quiet he could have heard a pin drop. It seemed deserted, but Emerson had already checked the therapy rooms, the conference room, the common room, and the kitchen for Harry, so he knew the man couldn't be too far away. He figured Harry was more than likely in his room, maybe packing his trunk because the committee had said he could leave or maybe crying on his bed because they said he couldn't.

So pushing any sense of foreboding aside, Emerson strolled down to Harry's room, to either congratulate his friend or provide him with a shoulder to cry on. But when he was about two feet away from the bedroom door, he stopped dead in his tracks. A sickening smell hit him fast and hard, like a brick wall that sprang suddenly from nowhere. He knew instantly what it was, having been particularly sensitive to the scent as a child. It was rusty and iron and warm, and he could feel his stomach starting to churn with bile as he thought about where it was coming from.

Most people would not have even noticed the scent; they would have passed through the hallway, not knowing anything was wrong. But Emerson had been around enough blood in his life that he could smell it if someone had simply cut themselves shaving.

He smelled it frequently outside of Harry's room; he had been able to tell that Harry was a cutter the moment he met him. But the scent Emerson had gotten used to was nothing compared to what he was smelling now. There was more blood than usual, ten or twenty times more perhaps, and his hands were trembling as he thought about what he might see when he walked through the doorway.

Emerson took a deep breath, the iron burning his nostrils, and pushed the door open.

His breath hitched and tears began stinging his eyes as he took in the scene before him. Harry and Draco were curled up on the bed together, their arms and hands and legs intertwined like pale vines of ivy. They almost looked peaceful, and Emerson would have thought that they were just sleeping if it hadn't been for the blood soaked sheets and the rivers of crimson that wound down the comforter and gathered in a shallow pool on the smooth, white linoleum.

A small scream escaped his lips and before he could think twice about what he was doing, he threw himself to the side of Harry's bed and wrapped his arms around the fallen angels, his tears washing away the blood from Harry's and Draco's wrists. He wished he were a phoenix and his tears could heal the bloodied valleys between their forearms and hands, but logic told him not even a phoenix could help. Nothing could bring back the dead and Emerson could tell by the crusted crimson and the aged iron scent that they had bled out hours ago.

They died in each other's arms, their blood spilling simultaneously, their insides cooling in unison, their breathing slowing to labored gasps, then to nothing at all. They died on their terms, together, and a small part of him was at least grateful for that, maybe even a little envious that they got to spend their final moments the way they had chosen.

"Oh my god," a voice gasped behind him. Emerson turned to see Davis standing in the doorway, his face painted with shock and horror.

A sudden surge of anger shot through Emerson and he stood up and wheeled around, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "What did you do?" he said, he voice quivering.

"What? What do you mean?" Davis asked, his face paling further.

"Why did they do this? What did you guys do to them?"

"Nothing!" Davis quickly countered. "Nothing at all!"

"You're lying!" Emerson yelled as he threw himself at the doctor. He screamed and tears flowed freely from his eyes as he pounded Davis's shoulders and back with his fists. He kept hitting him and hitting him, taking out all of his anger on the man he was sure had something to do with Harry and Draco's demise. But the doctor didn't fight back; he stood there and took the blows, as though part of him thought he deserved them, or perhaps he was just too upset to fight back.

After taking the hits for a few more moments, the punches finally softened and the screaming quieted until tears overwhelmed Emerson. His body heaved violently and he struggled to breath as he sobbed into the crook of Davis' neck. The doctor wrapped his arms tightly around the boy's shaking body and whispered into his ear, "They're happy now Em. They're happy."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

A warm breeze swept through the crowd as the priest said his final words. It had been a nice service; quick, quiet, not too over the top, just as Harry would have wanted it. Hermione wasn't sure if that would have been Draco's preference, but from what she had heard, he would have been happy with anything just as long as he was buried by Harry's side. So that was exactly what she did.

When she had gotten the call from Waverly just one week ago telling her that Harry was gone, she had fallen to her knees screaming, the phone dropping to the plush carpet by her side. Ron ran over and tried to help her up, but her legs had turned to jelly and she just kept collapsing. "Harry," she screamed. "Harry!"

A wave of terror washed over Ron and his pale face turned a sickening shade of grey. He lifted the phone off of the floor with trembling hands and whispered a hoarse, "Hello?" into the receiver, scared to death of what he might hear.

Davis was on the other end of the line, and he explained everything to Ron, also informing the man that he and his wife had been listed as Harry's next of kin. Ron numbly took all of the information in, wrote down the facility's phone number, and told Davis that his wife would be calling to make arrangements. Then he hung up and retreated to his room, where he stayed the rest of the evening.

After crying on the floor for a few hours, Hermione's sensible side kicked in and she knew she had to get Harry's affairs in order. She called around and made the funeral arrangements, then called the hospital back to let them know that everything was all set.

"Great," Davis said. "I just have another question for you, Mrs. Weasley. We have tried to contact Mr. Malfoy's next of kin, but we were unable to reach anyone. I know that he and Harry sort of grew up with each other...Do you happen to know anyone else we can contact?"

"Hmmm...Let me see what I can figure out," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I'll get back to you."

Hermione had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to track down someone, anyone, that would be able to take care of Draco's arrangements. She flooed everyone she could possibly think of, even popped down to the ministry, but no one seemed to know of any family or friends of the Malfoy's that would be able to help or at least point them in the right direction.

So in the end, Hermione decided to take matters into her own hands. She called Davis back and told him that she would be taking care of Draco as well and that she had already made arrangements for a double funeral.

She could almost hear the man smiling through the phone. "That's wonderful," he said. "I think that's exactly what they would have wanted."

And as Hermione watched the two caskets being lowered into the ground, she knew she had made the right decision.

Soon the crowd began thin and people came over to Ron and Hermione to express their condolences and share a few memories before apparating home. Hermione thanked them graciously, doing her best to stay strong.

Ron stood by her side through all of it, his eyes glued to the patchy grass below him, not uttering a word.

And when nearly everyone had left, a tall blonde man and a shorter brunette approached them.

"I'm Davis," the blonde said. "And this is Emerson. We knew Harry from Waverly."

"Oh, of course," Hermione said taking the doctor's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," he said. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did for them. Harry's lucky to have such wonderful friends."

"Oh, you're sweet," Hermione smiled.

Ron sniffled loudly and began absent-mindedly digging the skin on his thumb.

"And I want you guys to know," Davis continued as he eyed Ron. "Harry was a troubled young man, but he was very loving, very forgiving. And he would hate to see the people he loved beating themselves up over what happened to him. I struggled with it at first, but I realized that what Harry did was his choice, no one else's. Our disagreements, our harsh words to each other--none of those things made him kill himself. He killed himself because wanted the nightmares to stop, the guilt to stop, the pain to stop. To him, death was the only way he could truly find peace. So please, just know that Harry is happy now."

Hermione nodded and wiped away the tears that had fallen to her cheeks. Ron looked up, his own eyes puffy and red, and took his wife in his arms. "I'm going to miss him," he whispered.

"We all will."


End file.
